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$-  NOV  9  1885  '<! 

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BT  701  . M472  1S56 
Me^cein,  T.  F.  Randolph  1825 

Natural  goodness;  or.  Honour 


4 


I 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2019  with  funding  from 
Princeton  Theological  Seminary  Library 


https://archive.org/details/naturalgoodnesso00rnerc_0 


« 


NATURAL  CxQODNESS 


OR, 


HONOUR  TO  WHOM  HONOUR  IS  DUE, 


SUGGESTIONS  TOWARD  AN 

APPRECIATIVE  VIEW  OF  MOKAL  MEN,  THE  PHILOSOPHY 
OF  THE  PRESENT  SYSTEM  OF  MORALITY,  AND  THE 
RELATION  OF  NATURAL  YIETUE  TO  RELIGION. 


BY  REV.  T.  F.  RANDOLPH4' MERCED^,  M.  A. 


“His  life  was  gentle,  and  the  elements 
So  mix’d  in  him,  that  nature  might  stand  up, 
And  say  to  all  the  world — Behold  a  man!” 


FOURTH  EDITION. 


3feu)-L)ork : 

PUBLISHED  BY  CARLTON  &  PHILLIPS, 

200  MULBERRY -STREET 


1856. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1854, 

BY  CARLTON  &  PHILLIPS, 

the  Clerk’s  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  Southern  District 

of  New-York. 


f r*fatt. 


A  book,  like  an  implement,  must  be  judged 
by  its  adaptation  to  its  special  design,  how¬ 
ever  unfit  for  any  other  end.  This  volume 
is  designed  to  meet  the  peculiar  difficulties 
of  one  class  of  thinkers,  in  regard  to  one 
aspect  of  religious  truth.  Its  unfitness  to 
meet  other  wants  of  other  classes,  is  admitted 
in  advance. 

It  may  be  a  vain  hope  that  the  circle  of 
moral  men  who  attend  our  churches  regu¬ 
larly,  who  are  penetrated  with  a  Christian 
sentiment,  and  who  without  a  scholastic 
training  are  disciplined  and  practical  thinkers, 

r 

may  find  in  these  pages  a  view  of  their  posi- 


4 


PREFACE. 


tion  and  relation  to  religious  experience  more 
satisfactory  than  is  given  by  the  ordinary 
sermon,  or  the  discussions  of  Systematic 
Theology. 

Different  classes  of  men  have  different 
methods  of  thinking,  as  well  as  different 
points  of  view  from  which  they  see  things. 
Standing  upon  separate  terraces  of  the  as¬ 
cending  slope  of  talent  and  culture,  each 
class  looks  out  and  sees  Truth  encircled  bv 

a/ 

a  new  combination  of  difficulties.  A  teacher, 
then,  must  take  tlieir  position,  and  from 
thence  relieve  their  perplexities.  And  so 
each  class  has  its  own  peculiar  method  of 
associating  thoughts  and  framing  arguments 
— has  its  own  peculiar  idiom  of  thinking — 
and  in  order  to  be  easily  and  fully  con¬ 
vinced,  must  be  addressed  in  its  own  dialect 
of  thought. 

None  will  expect,  then,  an  exhaustive  dis¬ 
cussion  of  our  topics,  but  only  a  considera- 


PREFACE. 


5 


tion  of  such  prominent  points  and  occasional 
aspects  as  are  of  interest  to  the  men  for 
whom  we  write.  Much  may  be  said  or  left 
unsaid  which,  in  view  of  any  other  class, 
would  be  of  different  propriety. 

Yet,  although  these  essays  are  distinct, 
there  is  a  logical  connexion  between  them, 
and  they  suggest  a  general  theory.  So  far 
as  it  varies  from  the  common  methods  of 
explaining  the  natural  virtues,  the  author 
can  only  ask  that  he  may  not  be  judged 
harshly,  as  he  has  only  suggested,  and  with 
diffidence.  Certainly  no  other  view  has  yet 
satisfied  the  Church.  Every  sincere,  al¬ 
though  unsuccessful,  attempt  to  open  the 
lock  of  Truth  is  a  benefit  to  mankind.  As 
each  new  key  of  theory  is  found  to  fit  one 
ward,  and  yet  another,  we  gain  a  clearer 
idea  of  the  key  which  will  pass  them  all, 
and  spring  the  bolt. 

The  technical  phrases  employed  to  denote 


6 


PREFACE. 


certain  experiences  or  doctrines  have  their 
value  :  they  have  for  the  Church  a  definite 
meaning,  and  are  essential  to  accurate  and 
brief  expression  :  hut  to  one  without,  even 
if  they  do  not  seem  like  cant ,  they  are  apt 
to  convey  a  false  meaning,  or  no  meaning  at 
all.  A  similar  remark  may  be  made  in 
regard  to  the  usual  routine  of  argumenta¬ 
tion.  Therefore  we  feel  free  to  employ  new 
terms  and  new  forms  of  argument,  not  be¬ 
cause  they  are  better  in  themselves,  but  be¬ 
cause  they  come  free  from  the  old  prejudices. 

That  there  is  increasing  need  of  such 
books  is  certain:  and  if  no  more  is  accom¬ 
plished,  this  volume  may  incite  abler  pens 
to  write  a  better. 


Citrus. 


L  INJUSTICE  DONE  TO  MOEAL  MEN. 

IL  THE  OENEEAL  UNCONSCIOUSNESS  OF  DEEP  GUILT. 
HI.  THE  TEMPOEAL  EEWAEDS  OF  MOEALITY. 

IY.  THE  COMPAEATIYE  EECTITUDE  OF  HUMAN  CONDUCT. 
Y.  THE  NATUEAL  YIETUES. 

YI.  THE  EELATION  OF  MOEALITY  TO  EELIGION. 

YIL  THE  EELIGIOUS  ELEMENT  IN  HUMAN  NATUEE. 

VIH.  EELIGIOUS  EXPEEEENCE  —  CONVICTION. 

IX.  EELIGIOUS  EXPEEEENCE  —  EEPENTANCE. 

X.  EELIGIOUS  EXPEEIENCE  — FAITH. 

XI.  LOYE  TO  GOD,  THE  CEITEEION  OF  YIETUE. 

XIL  INJUEY  DONE  TO  EELIGION  BY  MOEAL  MEN. 


' 


- 


€  outfits. 


I. 

INJUSTICE  DONE  TO  HORAE  HEN. 

Apparent  contradiction  between  the  life  and  feelings  of  moral  men 
and  the  denunciations  of  Scripture — The  effect  of  the  discrep¬ 
ancy  upon  the  Church  and  the  world — Chalmers’s  views — Protest 
of  moral  men  in  our  congregations — Theology  built  upon  the  doc¬ 
trine  of  depravity  of  human  nature — Summary  of  presumptions 
against  the  doctrine,  afforded  by  common  observation — Faith  even 
in  revealed  truth  made  difficult  by  the  spirit  of  philosophical  in¬ 
vestigation — The  fewer  the  unsolved  problems  the  better — Natural 
resentment  against  wanton  imputations  of  moral  debasement — • 
Progress  of  theories  in  regard  to  natural  virtue — Candour  and 
manly  consideration  due  from  the  moral  man  to  one  who  submits 
a  respectful  discussion  of  the  facts .  Page  13 


II. 

THAT  THE  GENERAL  UNCONSCIOUSNESS  OF  DEEP  GUILT  AF- 
FORDS  NO  PRESUHPTION  AGAINST  THE  DOCTRINE  OF  UTTER 
DEPRAVITY. 

Severe  language  of  Scripture  is  not  attested  by  the  common  con¬ 
science — Sin  brings  insensibility  to  itself — Analogy  of  moral  sensi¬ 
bility  to  intellectual  taste — Progress  of  crime  and  moral  sensibility 
— Reverse  experience  of  a  heart  renewed  and  growing  purer.  So, 
according  to  present  constitution,  depravity  is  as  consistent  with 
unconsciousness  of  sin  as  innocence  itself — Reason  for  this  suspen¬ 
sion  of  the  connexion  of  remorse  with  sin — Full  remorse  would 
unfit  the  soul  for  a  probation — Fallacy  of  heresies  in  regard  to 
eternal  punishment — Fatal  effect  of  full  anticipation  of  due  pun¬ 
ishment — The  gradual  revelation  of  guilt  in  successive  dispen¬ 
sations — Faith  the  only  knowledge .  31 


10 


CONTENTS. 


I 


in. 

PRESUMPTION  AGAINST  IDEA  OE  DEEP  GUILT  AFFORDED  BY 
GOD’S  TEMPORAL  BLESSINGS  UPON  NATURAL  YIRTUE. 

Intuitive  expectation  of  the  connexion  of  virtue  with  happiness,  and 
sin  with  misery — Personal  feelings  of  the  sovereign  Disposer  of 
events  evidenced  by  distribution  of  his  favours — National  dispen¬ 
sations — Scripture  promises — Different  moralities,  each  inde¬ 
pendent  of  the  others,  and  not  implied  by  them — Their  rewards 
equally  separate  and  not  implied  by  each  other — A  new  morality 
and  its  reward  would  follow  same  law — Spiritual  and  eternal 
morality  not  implied  by  temporal  moralities,  nor  its  reward  by 
theirs — Temporal  blessings  evince  no  estimate  of  our  motives , 
yet  they  serve  other  essential  ends — They  show  the  moral  char¬ 
acter  of  God’s  government,  and  the  principles  of  his  Jinal  award — 
Afford  a  guide  to  an  awakening  conscience — They  are  further 
essential  in  carrying  out  the  plan  of  redemption .  Page  55 

IV. 

PRESUMPTION  AGAINST  IDEA  OF  DEEP  GUILT  AFFORDED  BY 
THE  COMPARATIVE  RECTITUDE  OF  HUMAN  CONDUCT. 

The  point  conceded  that  in  all  the  relations  of  private  and  of  public 
life,  there  is  a  preponderance  of  right  over  wrong  actions — 
Secondary  motives  to  morality — Prudential  considerations — 
Pride  of  character — Case  in  point — Such  considerations  regulate 
immense  proportion  of  cases — The  fact  of  a  conscious  repugnance 
to  gross  sins  considered — Association  of  crime  with  its  conse¬ 
quences — Less  familiar  forms — Social  instinct  against  destructive 
vices — Social  instinct  not  a  moral  sensibility .  81 

V. 

THE  NATURAL  VIRTUES. 

Spontaneous  and  disinterested  impulses  of  human  nature — Neither 
angelic  nor  fiendlike — Benevolent  institutions — Literature — Com¬ 
mon  life — Virtues  not  due  to  culture  or  civilization — Chalmers’s 
view,  and  its  defect — The  test  found  in  the  uniformity  with  which 


CONTENTS. 


11 


a  love  of  virtue  would  act — Magnetic  bar — Natural  virtues  un- 
symmetrical — No  pervading  purity  of  principle — If  not  religious, 
what  are  they  ? .  Page  111 


VI. 

RELATION  OF  MORALITY  TO  RELIGION. 

Principle  of  perfect  holiness  insures  love  to  God  and  all  right  affec¬ 
tions  toward  man — A  wrong  principle  would  destroy  both  love  to 
God  and  all  virtuous  relative  affections — Chalmers’s  view  defect¬ 
ive — Portraiture  of  a  world  wholly  depraved — Preliminaries 
essential  to  make  a  probation  possible — Affectional  instincts — 
Morality  the  “false-work”  of  redemption .  139 

VII. 

THE  RELIGIOUS  ELEMENT  IN  HUMAN  NATURE. 

Spiritual  capabilities.  1.  Indestructible — Conscience  as  legislator 
and  executive  —  Comprehension  of  pure  sentiment  and  affec¬ 
tions — Perception  of  beauty  of  holiness.  2.  Destructible  and  re¬ 
quiring  renovation — Affections — Will — Measure  of  freedom  given 
to  qualify  for  a  consent  to  receive  the  whole.  True  position  of 
moral  men . . .  165 


VIII. 

PHASES  OF  CONYICTION. 

Consciousness  of  sin  as  varied  by  heathenism  and  by  Christian 
privileges — As  affected  by  familiarity — Constitutional  tempera¬ 
ment —  Sympathetic  emotion — Personal  circumstances  —  Gross 
crimes — Connexion  with  fear,  &c. — Knowledge  of  our  sin  and 
want  the  only  prerequisite  to  action .  189 

IX. 

PHASES  OF  REPENTANCE. 

First  resistance  to  evil — Widening  circle  of  spiritual  foes — Sense  of 
intrinsic  evil — Of  utter  depravity — Self-culture,  its  power  and  its 
inadequacy — Gradual  reception  of  divine  aid — Mental  prayer — 
Singular  cases — Absence  of  terror — Hatred  to  sin — Tropical  and 
polar  growth .  211 


12 


CONTENTS. 


X. 

FAITK 

The  penitent  must  take  his  true  attitude  of  self-despair,  and  of 
positive  reliance  on  God’s  promises — The  philosophy  of  atone¬ 
ment  need  not  be  comprehended — Faith  of  reliance — Of  appre¬ 
hension — Negative  power  of  unbelief — Effect  of  faith  not  a  natu¬ 
ral  result — Aid  rendered  by  the  temporary  moral  system  of  the 
world  to  the  true  work  of  faith . . .  Page  231 


XL 

LOVE  TO  GOD  THE  TEST  OE  VIRTUE. 

Love  to  God,  although  but  one  part  of  religion,  still  an  essential 
part — Love  of  qualities  or  attributes  implies  love  to  their  pos¬ 
sessor — Tests  of  personal  affection — Peculiar  value  of  this  crite¬ 
rion,  arising  from  the  presence  of  instinctive  impulses,  parallel 
to  the  relative  virtues — Love  to  God  has  no  substitute — Relation 
of  the  love  of  God  to  practical  philanthropy .  253 

XII. 

INJURY  DONE  TO  RELIGION  BY  MORAL  MEN. 

Moral  men  directly,  in  virtue  of  their  morality,  do  injure  religion — 
Power  of  example — Confusion  of  morality  with  religion — Idea  of 
sufficiency  of  morality  to  an  inferior  salvation — Responsibility 
for  this  influence — Objection  anticipated — Conclusion  of  the 
work .  273 


“Then  gently  scan  your  brother  man; 

Still  gentler,  sister  woman ! 

Tho’  they  may  gang  a  kennin  wrang, 
To  step  aside  is  human. 

One  point  must  still  be  greatly  dark, 
The  moving,  why  they  do  it ; 

And  just  as  lamely  can  ye  mark, 

How  far,  perhaps,  they  rue  it.” 

Burns. 


“Yet  Michael,  the  archangel,  when  contending  with  the 
devil,  .  .  .  durst  not  bring  against  him  a  railing  accusation.” 

St.  Jude. 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


i. 

INJUSTICE  DONE  TO  MORAL  MEN. 

The  memory  of  one  of  the  noblest  spirits  that 
ever  breathed — whose  threescore  years  of  public 
integrity  and  benevolence  were  sealed  bv  the 
loveliness  of  every  domestic  and  social  virtue, 
although  unrestrained  by  the  force  of  a  strictly 
religious  experience — has  bound  my  heart  to  the 
whole  class  of  men  of  whom  he  was  the  type; 
men  whose  career  of  uniform  and  steadfast  vir¬ 
tue  shames  the  inconsistency  of  many  in  the 
Church  itself,  and  whose  life  and  experience 
seem  at  once  to  give  a  dignified  rebuke  to  the 
charge  of  deep  depravity,  and  to  deny  the  need 
of  regeneration,  as  it  is  commonly  understood; 
men  upon  whom,  as  Jesus  looks,  he  loves  them. 
Net  the  added  recollection  that  such  a  one,  in 
the  full  maturity  of  all  the  mental  and  moral 


16 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


excellencies  which  had  adorned  life's  meridian, 
was  made,  as  its  evening  drew  on,  to  feel  the 
insufficiencv  of  all  such  virtues,  and  sought  and 
found  pardon  and  renewal,  as  one  who  had  utter 
need  of  both,  has  ever  been  to  me  the  strongest 
confirmation  of  the  necessity  of  such  moral  trans¬ 
formation  for  every  heart,  and  has  awakened  the 
intensest  desire  that  those  wdio  are  honoured 
with  his  earlier  experience  may  not  die  with¬ 
out  his  better  hope. 

There  appears  to  be  a  strange  contradiction 
between  some  of  the  sterner,  exclusive,  and  de¬ 
nunciatory  doctrines  of  Scripture,  and  the  facts 
of  human  life  and  consciousness,  especially  in 
the  moral  history  of  such  men ;  and  like  the 
difficulties  presented  by  science  in  its  progress, 
such  facts  may  not  be  either  ignored  or  de¬ 
nounced.  The  cavils,  indeed,  which  are  ut¬ 
tered  from  among  the  stars,  or  echoed  from  the 
uncovered  chambers,  where,  like  the  graven  tiles 
of  ISTineveh,  nature  has  piled  strata  upon  strata, 
the  archives  of  forgotten  epochs,  may  only 
reach  the  learned  and  the  speculative  ear ;  but 
questionings  that  speak  out  from  our  own  con¬ 
sciousness  and  experience,  seem  like  a  protest 
of  our  very  being  against  these  repulsive  dog¬ 
mas,  and  are  heard  alike  by  all.  Divines  may 


INJUSTICE  DONE  TO  MORAL  MEN. 


17 


warn  us  that  revelation  must  claim  our  faith, 
however  it  may  perplex  our  natural  reason.  It 
may  even  he  true  that  a  heart,  properly  affected 
hv  the  great  truths  of  Scripture,  might  easily 
dissipate  such  gathering  doubts  by  the  beaming 
assurance  that  shines  from  its  inmost  soul. 
But  the  gospel  is  urging  its  claims  upon  those 
who,  as  vet,  have  not  felt  its  “  demonstration 
of  the  Spirit and  their  perplexities  demand 
relief.  The  Christian  may  see  such  objections 
as  very  small  obstacles  between  him  and  the 
spiritual  intuition,  which,  although  they  remain, 
yet  like  a  sun  pours  around  and  over  them  its 
radiance.  But  to  the  doubting  heart,  that  sun, 
far  removed  and  lessened  to  a  mere  star,  may 
be  obscured  by  a  petty  obstacle  near  the  eye. 
If  such  doubts  sometimes  harass  even  a  Chris¬ 
tian's  faith ;  if  some  candid  minds,  from  a  too 
vivid  apprehension  of  apparent  contradictions 
presented  by  experience  to  Bible  truths,  reason 
backward  to  a  false  interpretation  of  the  word 
itself;  if,  above  all,  in  thousands  who  hold  the 
truth,  its  power  is  neutralized  by  this  under¬ 
thought  of  error,  it  must  be  an  object  worthy 
of  deepest  solicitude,  to  reconcile  the  apparent 
discrepancies,  and  avert  the  danger  as  we  may. 

“There  is  a  wav  of  maintaining’  the  utter  de- 

v  O 


18 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


pravity  of  onr  nature,  and  of  doing  it  in  such  a 
style  of  sweeping  and  vehement  asseveration,  as 
to  render  it  not  merely  obnoxious  to  the  taste, 
but  obnoxious  to  the  understanding.  On  this 
subj  ect  there  is  often  a  roundness  and  a  temerity 
of  announcement  which  any  intelligent  man, 
looking  at  the  phenomena  of  human  character 
with  his  own  eyes,  cannot  go  along  with.  And 
thus  it  is  that  there  are  injudicious  defenders  of 
orthodoxy,  who  have  summoned  against  it  not 
merely  a  positive  dislike,  but  a  positive  strength 
of  observation  and  argument.  Let  the  nature 
of  man  be  a  ruin,  as  it  certainly  is ;  it  is  obvious 
to  the  most  common  discernment,  that  it  does 
not  offer  one  unvaried  and  unalleviated  mass  of 
deformity.  There  are  certain  phases  and  cer¬ 
tain  exhibitions  of  this  nature  wdiich  are  more 
lovelv  than  others — certain  traits  of  character 
not  due  to  the  operation  of  Christianity  at  all, 
and  yet  calling  forth  our  admiration  and  our 
tenderness— certain  varieties  of  moral  complex¬ 
ion,  far  more  fair  and  more  engaging  than  cer¬ 
tain  other  varieties ;  and  to  prove  that  the  gos¬ 
pel  may  have  had  no  share  in  the  formation 
of  them,  they  in  fact  stood  out  to  the  notice 
and  respect  of  the  world  before  the  gospel  was 
ever  heard  of.  The  classic  page  of  antiquity 


INJUSTICE  DONE  TO  MORAL  MEN. 


19 


sparkles  with  repeated  exemplifications  of  what 
is  bright  and  beautiful  in  the  character  of  man ; 
nor  do  all  its  descriptions  of  external  nature 
waken  up  such  an  enthusiasm  of  pleasure,  as 
when  it  bears  testimony  to  some  graceful  or  ele¬ 
vated  doing,  out  of  the  history  of  the  species. 
And  whether  it  be  the  kindliness  of  maternal 
affection,  or  the  unweariedness  of  filial  piety,  or 
the  constancy  of  tried  and  unalterable  friend¬ 
ship,  or  the  earnestness  of  devoted  patriotism, 
or  the  rigour  of  unbending  fidelity,  or  any  other 
of  the  recorded  virtues  which  shed  a  glory  over 
the  remembrance  of  Greece  and  of  Rome, — we 
fully  concede  it  to  the  admiring  scholar,  that  • 
they,  one  and  all  of  them,  were  sometimes  ex¬ 
emplified  in  those  days  of  heathenism  ;  and  that 
out  of  the  materials  of  a  period  crowded,  as  it 
was,  with  moral  abominations,  there  may  also  be 
gathered  things  which  are  pure  and  lovely,  and 
true  and  just,  and  honest,  and  of  good  report.”* 
How  startling  and  indignant  the  protest  which 
at  times  comes  from  the  ranks  of  estimable 
men,  who  gather  around,  although  not  within 
the  Church,  against  those  associated  dogmas  of 
total  depravity,  regeneration,  and,  by  conse¬ 
quence,  a  vicarious  atonement.  They  are  asso- 

°  Chalmers’s  Commercial  Discourses,  Sermon  I. 


20 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


dated  doctrines,  and  stand  or  fall  together.  The 
remedies  employed  by  a  skilful  physician  must 
correspond  to  the  disease ;  and  if  the  disorder 
he  slight,  or  easily  remedied  by  diet  and  exer¬ 
cise,  the  idea  of  extreme  medical  treatment  is 
absurd,  because  it  has  no  correspondence  with 
the  malady  to  be  relieved.  They  that  never 
have  died,  need  no  power  to  call  them  from  the 
sepulchre.  The  idea  of  a  new  birth,  a  new  cre¬ 
ation,  for  a  soul  that  needs  only  a  slight  retouch- 
ing  from  the  almighty  Sculptor's  hand  to  restore 
its  finished  beauty,  is  at  once  rejected.  If  hu¬ 
man  nature,  therefore,  be  not  thus  deeply  de- 
.  praved,  the  remedial  provision  of  the  gospel  in¬ 
volves  no  regeneration  and  no  atonement.  It 
is  to  human  nature  as  exhibited  in  common  life, 
and  felt  in  common  experience,  that  men  turn 
instinctivelv  to  see  if  there  is  really  a  need  of 
the  remedy  which  is  urged  upon  them.  It  is 
here  that  many  a  wavering  mind  relinquishes  its 
faith  in  the  doctrine  of  the  Bible  as  to  his  utter 
depravity  by  nature.  From  the  general  uncon¬ 
sciousness  of  sin,  acquitting  men  of  such  enor¬ 
mous  guilt — from  the  natural  virtues,  as  they 
seem,  which  in  everv  age  and  clime  have  had 
noble  illustrations — from  the  minute  care  with 
which  Heaven  seems  to  seal  each  step  of  moral 


INJUSTICE  DONE  TO  MORAL  MEN, 


21 


rectitude  with  its  providential  reward,  and  its 
inward  approval — from  the  deep  repugnance  to 
gross  forms  of  sin,  felt  amid  all  human  imperfec¬ 
tions — from  the  spontaneous  admiration  of  the 
truthful  and  the  pure — from  the  power  of  self- 
culture,  apart  from  prayer  and  reliance  upon 
divine  aid,  to  strengthen  and  elevate  these  origi¬ 
nal  gifts — from  the  frequent  absence  of  any 
sudden  transition,  or  a  clear  line  of  demarca¬ 
tion  between  the  prior  experience  and  an  expe¬ 
rience  admitted  by  all  to  be  truly  religious — 
there  comes  a  voice  of  questioning  which  will 
make  itself  heard,  and  which  must  be  an¬ 
swered. 

If  or  is  the  spirit  of  such  questionings  altogether 
wrong.  It  is  the  spirit  of  the  age,  seeking  to 
prove  all  things,  and  hold  fast  that  which  is  true. 
The  Baconian  philosophy  has  taught  us  that  in 
science  a  theory  which  fails  to  account  for,  and 
correspond  to,  a  large  proportion  of  evident  facts, 
is  thereby  proven  false  and  untenable.  The  days 
are  gone  by,  when  from  a  few  general  notions  a 
philosophy  could  be  woven  which  should  bind 
the  world’s  faith,  in  spite  of  clearer  observation 
of  realities  around  it.  One  of  God’s  facts  shat¬ 
ters  all  the  crystalline  spheres  of  human  fancy. 

In  the  olden  time,  speculation,  standing  upon 


22 


NaTUBAL  goodness. 


the  shore  oi  a  broad  stream  of  doubt,  planned  a 
bridge  to  cross  the  gulf,  and  insisted  that  each 
arch  of  reasoning  would  find  a  secure  abutment 
of  facts,  although  no  facts  could  be  seen  to  lend 
a  foundation,  and  many  were  evidently  waiting 
to  lend  support  to  some  other  effort  of  logical 
architecture.  Modern  criticism  trusts  no  bridge 
of  theory  where  it  cannot  see  that  each  pier 
rests  upon,  and  does  not  fall  between,  the  facts. 
To  this  mode  of  criticism,  a  theory  given  by 
revelation  is,  of  course,  not  liable.  Human  igno¬ 
rance  is  bound  to  believe  that  its  dim  vision,  or 
the  mystery  that  gathers  around  those  facts  on 
which  the  arch  of  truth  rests,  deceives  the  eye  as 
to  the  true  place  and  support  of  each.  It  must 
trust  the  all-wise  Architect,  despite  its  ignorance. 
What  it  knows  not  now  it  may  know  hereafter. 
Yet  certainly,  the  scientific  scepticism  thus  in¬ 
duced,  and  proper,  too,  in  investigating  the  merits 
of  all  other  theories,  renders  less  easy  a  faith  in 
a  revealed  doctrine  which  is  apparently  at  war 
with  facts,  even  when  the  revelation  is  suffi¬ 
ciently  attested  from  without.  If,  therefore,  all 
mists  cannot  be  cleared  away,  it  is  well  if  some 
may  vanish  :  and  if  some  things  still  seem  unac¬ 
countable,  their  fewness  will  make  it  easier  for  a 
wavering  faith  to  decide  the  scale  against  them. 


IX  JUS  TICE  DOXE  TO  MORAL  MEX. 


23 


There  is  in  any  argument  a  satisfaction  in  de¬ 
fining  exactly  the  limits  of  the  difficulties  which 

O  o 

we  cannot  remove  :  for  an  indefinite  amount  of 
objection  has  the  force  almost  of  an  infinite  diffi¬ 
culty.  "When  the  moralist  is  assured  that  we  do 
really  appreciate  the  facts  and  the  perplexities 
in  regard  to  his  case,  he  will  feel  that  there  must 
indeed  be  some  unseen  force  in  those  other  argu¬ 
ments,  which  may,  notwithstanding  all,  leave  our 
candid  judgment  against  him. 

Above  all,  no  man  can  be  expected  to  admit 
imputations  against  his  moral  worth  calmly,  and 
as  mere  questions  of  curiosity,  as  he  would  re¬ 
ceive  intimations  of  the  unsoundness  of  a  fruit- 
tree.  It  is  a  law  of  our  mental  constitution  that 
we  must  resent  injustice  and  slander.  There  is 
no  emotion  so  quickly  excited;  and  with  all  the 
energy  of  self-preservation  it  combines  a  sense 
of  noble  and  sacred  resistance  to  wrong.  One 
false  charge  will  generally  destroy  the  force  of 
the  evidence  of  many  true  ones.  The  tide  of 
indignation  against  the  insult,  quickly  felt  and 
clearly  perceived,  bears  away  with  it  not  only 
the  slander,  but  the  associated  charges  and  their 
evidence.  A  slight  consideration  of  this  familiar 
principle  would  save  the  waste  of  many  a  public 
lecture,  and  many  a  private  rebuke.  And  thus 


24 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


it  lias  come  to  pass,  that  the  class  of  men,  which 
of  all  for  whom  Christ  died  are  most  endeared 
to  our  hearts,  and  for  whom  the  transition  into 
all  that  constitutes  religion  would  seem  the  most 
natural,  are  left  half-bewildered,  half-indignant, 
at  the  undiscriminating  invective  that  is  poured 
upon  them. 

Centuries  ago,  a  theology  that  would  not  allow 
God’s  Spirit  even  to  touch  a  heart  that  was  not 
to  be  finally  saved  by  the  atonement,  wrote  its 
severe  proscriptions  against  all  worth  or  loveli¬ 
ness  in  morality,  before  conversion.  It  adopted 
the  theory  in  reference  to  the  many,  which  infi¬ 
delity  applied  to  all :  that  there  was  in  them  no 
disinterested  virtue ;  but  that  a  desire  for  self- 
gratification  was  the  one  element  into  which  all 
impulses,  how  noble  soever  they  seemed,  were 
at  last  to  be  resolved.  “  Selfishness  ”  was  the 
comprehensive  label  placed  on  all  that  seemed 
“  true  and  lovely,  and  of  good  report.”  Bishop 
Butler  demonstrated  for  all  time,  that  both  good 
and  evil  impulses  and  affections  were  not  mere 
motives  of  self-interest ;  but  that  there  is  in  every 
heart  a  natural  kindliness,  and  compassion,  and 
gratitude,  developed  in  different  degrees,  which, 
whatever  might  be  their  moral  value  before  God, 
are  as  spontaneous  and  disinterested  as  an  angel’s 


INJUSTICE  DONE  TO  MORAL  MEN. 


25 


love — or  as  the  love  of  God  to  man.  In  later 
years,  the  candid  and  generous  mind  of  Chal¬ 
mers  has  acknowledged  and  honoured  the  “  his¬ 
torical  virtues,”  as  the  yet  unfallen  columns  of 
our  shattered  nature.  And  M’Cosh  has  given 
the  same  idea  a  yet  more  systematic  exposition. 
The  violent  reaction  from  the  old  extreme  into 
an  avowed  Pelagianism — openly  denying  the  fall, 
asserting  the  identity  of  natural  goodness  with 
religion,  and  setting  forth  human  nature  and 
history  in  its  brightest  aspects — has  tended  to 
modifv  the  sentiment  even  of  the  Church.  And 

c J 

finally  the  rapid  enlargement  of  the  truly  evan¬ 
gelical  Church,  spreading  from  the  centre  like  a 
circle  of  light,  and  surrounded  by  a  still  increas¬ 
ing  belt,  like  a  penumbra,  of  hearts  not  of  it,  yet 
unconsciously  pervaded  and  tinged  with  its  spirit, 
is  forcing  these  characters  more  and  more  upon 
our  attention.  The  common  broad  and  blunt  de¬ 
nunciations  fall  harmlessly  at  their  feet.  They 
need  a  missile  pointed  more  accurately,  and  with  a 
more  discriminating  edge,  to  pierce  the  joints  of 
their  armour.  Of  many  of  them  the  pulpit  and 
the  Church  are  sorely  puzzled  what  to  think,  and 
how  to  speak.  Some  of  them,  in  all  candour,  are 
in  doubt  what  to  think  of  themselves. 

It  will  be  seen  that  we  use  the  word  morality 


26 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


not  in  its  philosophical  signification,  but  in  what 
is  now  its  popular  sense,  to  indicate  those  feel¬ 
ings  and  duties,  which  the  voice,  both  of  revela¬ 
tion  and  of  nature,  declares  us  to  owe  to  ourselves 
and  to  others,  independently  of  our  duties  to  God : 
and  at  times,  we  shall  include  all  sentiments  and 
affections,  all  purposes  or  actions,  possible  to  a 
soul  which  can  be  considered  as  yet  unregenerate, 
in  the  common  acceptation  of  that  word. 

Honour,  then,  to  whom  honour  is  due.  We 
call  upon  the  Church  to  recognise  all  the  noble 
deeds  and  lovely  traits  that  humanity  displays. 
We  call  upon  her  to  concede  their  existence,  not 
grudgingly,  and  with  suspicion,  but  cordially  and 
thankfully,  as  the  providence  of  God,  and  the 
benefit  of  man.  We  summon  nature’s  noble¬ 
man  to  look  upon  his  own  virtues,  and  take  their 
fullest  gauge.  We  will  exult  in  his  princely 
honours.  He  shall  feel  that  we  at  least  are  will¬ 
ing  to  take  his  virtues  for  what  they  are. 

If  then,  with  a  filial  reverence  and  sorrow,  we 
should  express  to  the  amiable  and  honoured 
moralist,  a  fear  in  his  behalf,  we  have  a  claim 
upon  him  for  a  manly  candour  and  a  generous 
forbearance,  as  he  has  a  claim  on  us  for  careful 
consideration  of  his  dearest  honours.  We  shall 
not  blame  him  in  that  he  shrinks  from  the  sense 


INJUSTICE  DONE  TO  MORAL  MEN. 


27 


of  shame ;  nor  will  we  attribute  this  to  the  de¬ 
pravity  which  we  lament.  Self-respect  is  not 
pride ;  and  humility,  even  in  its  Scriptural  spirit¬ 
uality,  implies  no  insensibility  to  the  degrada¬ 
tion  of  moral  pollution,  nor  a  tame  and  apathetic 
submission  to  the  charge  of  vileness.  Humility, 
indeed,  is  willing  to  abide  wherever  the  will  of 
God  may  place  us:  but,  conscious  that  moral 
depravity  is  not  of  his  appointment,  but  a  dese¬ 
cration  of  his  purposes,  humility  can  but  feel 
the  brand  of  guilt  an  insult  if  it  be  false,  and  a 
bitter  humiliation  if  it  be  true.  God,  who  made 
us  in  his  image,  has  his  own  felicity  in  conscious 
holiness,  and  seeks  a  “hallowed name:”  and  that 
deep  sense  of  the  worth  and  glory  of  moral  ex¬ 
cellence,  is  the  essential  mould  in  which  every 
virtue  is  to  be  cast — the  base  and  socket,  from 
which  every  column  of  moral  beauty  rears  its 
majestic  form.  It  is  not  all  of  pride,  therefore, 
that  a  generous  spirit  should  shrink  from  the 
consciousness  of  sin,  or  struggle  against  the  con¬ 
viction  of  his  guilt :  it  is  the  voice  of  his  inde¬ 
structible  nature,  against  the  sin  itself.  And  he 
who  has  no  sympathy  with  that  unwilling  and 
astonished  soul;  he  who  can  lightly  avow  his 
own  depravity,  or  affix  the  stigma  on  a  fellow- 
man — he  has  never  yet  been  made  to  realize 


23 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


the  “  shamefulness  of  sin,”  nor  felt  how  godlike 
is  God’s  image. 

Yet,  humiliating  as  is  the  consciousness  of  de¬ 
based  affections,  there  is  still  that  which  amid  the 
wreck  has  somewhat  of  dignity,  and  whose  loss 
were  a  deeper  degradation  still.  Whatsoever  we 
are,  and  whatever  may  await  us,  we  need  not 
be  deceived  as  to  our  character  or  our  fate,  and 
add  to  the  guilt  of  a  transgressor  the  imbecility 
of  a  dupe.  A  manly  spirit,  even  where  igno¬ 
rance  is  bliss,  will  choose  the  woe  of  knowledge. 
That  is  indeed  a  pitiable  weakness,  which  fears 
to  face  reality,  and  yields  itself  to  be  cajoled  by 
a  lie.  Cowardice,  as  the  strained  vessel  plunges 
like  a  dying  monster,  may  break  into  the  spirit- 
room,  and  drown  all  sense  of  danger  in  blank 
stupor,  or  in  maniac  exhilaration ;  but  Manliness 
and  Reason  stand  upon  the  bow,  and  watch  the 
nearing  breakers  on  the  reef  of  doom.  It  was  a 
splendid  dignity  which  graced  the  Roman  sen¬ 
ate,  when,  as  the  barbaric  hordes  entered  the 
very  gates  of  the  eternal  city,  the  conscript  fa¬ 
thers,  smitten  by  no  panic  of  useless  flight,  and 
roused  to  no  frenzy  of  vain  resistance,  listened 
in  calm  silence  in  their  curule  chairs  to  the  roar 
of  approaching  vengeance,  and  struck  Destruc¬ 
tion  as  it  burst  into  the  Capitol,  with  momentary 


INJUSTICE  DONE  TO  MORAL  MEN. 


29 


awe.  If  the  weak  and  the  ignorant  brand  ns, 
we  may  let  it  pass  unheeded  in  our  conscious 
worth.  But  if  an  oracle  that  cannot  err  de¬ 
nounce  our  doom,  let  us  not  stop  our  ears,  nor 
resent  the  threatening.  Let  us  hear  it  all,  and 
weigh  each  separate  charge,  and  make  our 
strongest  plea,  and  yield  our  hopes  of  refuge 
calmly,  if  we  must,  and  realize  each  coming  woe, 
and  meet  it  at  least  unsurprised.  We  need  not 
lose  all  manliness,  though  godliness  be  gone. 
Let  us  be  honest  with  ourselves ;  let  us  know 
the  truth,  even  though  the  searching:  light  reveal 
every  virtue  and  affection  of  the  soul  prostrate 
in  the  dust,  and  Jerusalem  “become  a  heap,” 
and  the  abomination  of  desolation  stand  in  the 
holy  place  forever !  Much  more  :  let  us  know 
the  worst,  and  feel  it,  when  amid  the  lingering 
echoes  of  the  prophecy  that  blasted,  a  voice  of 
promise  whispers  of  returning  grace,  and  a  re- 
builded  glory. 


II. 


(general  Unconsciousness  of  flee})  (guilt. 


“No,”  answers  the  just  man;  “I  will  not  deny  my  sins, 
nor  that  I  might  be  rightfully  judged  by  my  Superior  —  I 
might  have  committed  greater  faults  than  have  actually 
occurred  —  but  that  I  never  could  have  become  base,  I 
know,  as  I  know  my  own  existence,  for  it  is  a  part  of 
my  own  existence,  which  is  no  mere  transcendental,  col¬ 
ourless  ‘I  am/7 

Niebuhr’s  Lira  awd  Letters,  Let.  cxxxiv. 

“The  heart  is  deceitful  above  all  things,  and  desperately 
wicked/7 


Jek.  xvii,  9. 


II. 


GENERAL  UNCONSCIOUSNESS  OE  DEEP  GUILT. 

The  purpose  of  these  pages  is  not  to  prove,  from 
the  letter  of  the  Bible,  that  human  nature  is  in 
part  or  altogether  depraved;  hut  to  show  that 
such  a  doctrine,  if  it  is  found  in  Scripture,  is  not 
really  at  variance  and  irreconcilable  with  the 
facts  of  common  life  and  consciousness.  In  this 
essay  we  meet  the  objection  which  is  the  most 
universal  and  plausible.  Men,  it  is  true,  cannot 
help  but  feel  that  however  criticism  may  explain 
away  its  language,  yet  the  word  of  God  does, 
with  most  appalling  energy  and  precision,  por- 
trav  the  utter  evil  of  the  human  heart,  exhaust- 
big  all  the  forms  of  rhetoric  in  its  stern  invective. 
It  declares,  negatively,  that  in  the  natural  mind 
there  dwelleth  no  good  thing ;  and  positively,  that 
the  heart  of  man  is  deceitful  above  all  things, 
and  desperately  wicked.  It  asserts  specifically 
that  there  is  none  that  doeth  good — no,  not  one. 
It  arraigns  every  sense  as  an  inlet  to  corruption, 
and  brands  every  member  of  the  body  as  the 

o 

O 


34 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


instrument  of  sin ;  and  with,  fearful  analysis,  seiz¬ 
ing  each  separate  faculty  of  thought,  and  each 
affection  and  moral  capability,  it  exhibits  every 
ingredient  of  human  character  as  vile  and  hope¬ 
less.  Yet,  however  we  may  he  stunned  and 
overwhelmed  by  the  storm  of  denunciations  thus 
hurled  upon  us,  few  have  failed  to  realize  that 
these  fearful  charges  have  not  a  corresponding 
witness  within  our  own  hearts.  When  men 
brand  us,  they  generally  appeal  to  our  own  con¬ 
sciousness  of  guilt,  and  to  the  common  sentiment 
of  mankind.  God  himself,  in  charging  home 
particular  transgressions  upon  men,  has  appealed 
to  their  own  sense  of  duty,  and  guilt,  and  shame. 
But  clearly  as  the  Bible  seems  to  speak,  the 
human  race,  although  conscious  of  much  infirm¬ 
ity  and  of  many  faults,  is  certainly  not  smitten 
with  the  remorseful  sense  of  such  enormous 
guilt.  That  conscience  which  men  have*  called 
the  voice  of  God  within  us,  seems  to  rebuke  the 
so-called  doctrines  of  the  written  word.  The 
ancient  prophet  seemed  to  feel  the  inconsistency, 
when,  before  he  declared  the  desperate  wicked¬ 
ness  of  the  heart,  he  observed  that  it  was  deceit¬ 
ful  above  all  things;  implying,  perhaps,  what 
we  shall  attempt  to  prove,  that  according  to  the 
present  constitution  of  things,  insensibility  to  sin- 


UNCONSCIOUSNESS  OF  DEEP  GUILT. 


35 


fulness  is  a  natural  accompaniment  of  sinfulness 
itself,  and  grows  with  its  growth.  The  uncon¬ 
sciousness  of  sin  and  guilt,  therefore,  cannot 
argue  its  absence ;  and  the  admitted  fact  in 
general  experience  does  not  invalidate  the 
charge  of  revelation. 

O 

As  we  wander  amid  the  sublime  scenes  of 
nature,  or  gather  around  the  beautiful  creations 
of  art,  the  spell  of  our  enjoyment  is  too  often 
broken  by  the  presence  of  one  who  has  no  eye 
nor  ear  for  their  varied  loveliness.  In  every  com¬ 
munity  many  are  conspicuous,  whose  dress  and 
furniture,  or  architecture,  or  equipage,  show  an 
entire  absence  of  that  perception  of  the  graceful 
and  the  beautiful,  of  propriety  and  fitness  in 
things,  which  we  familiarly  call  good  taste. 
The  incongruity  would  be  less  annoying,  could 
they  be  made  to  feel  their  deficiency  and  correct 
their  absurdities ;  but  we  feel  the  hopelessness 
of  the  attempt.  They  may  have  a  generous 
yearning  for  the  esteem  of  others,  or  a  timid 
sensitiveness  to  inconsiderate  ridicule  ;  and  these 
may  lead  them  to  sacrifice  personal  inclination, 
and  to  a  servile  imitation  of  prevailing  modes 
and  fashions.  But  however  they  may  treasure 
up  rules  by  which  to  adapt  forms,  and  colours, 
and  expressions,  to  the  true  standard  of  beauty 


36 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


and  propriety,  yon  can  only  teach  them  that 
they  have  not  a  sensibility  which  others  seem  to 
enjoy.  You  cannot  create  the  personal  con¬ 
sciousness  of  absurdity :  that  instinctive  sense 

*/ 

of  the  ludicrous  and  unfitting  which  others  feel, 
and  which  would  enable  them  to  decide  rightly 
in  new  cases,  and  which  might  bring  the  glow 
of  shame  when  they  transgressed  its  dictates, 
cannot  be  imparted.  They  may  admit ,  but  they 
cannot  realize  their  absurdities.  Just  in  propor¬ 
tion  to  the  depravity  of  taste,  are  they  insensible 
to  the  fact.  They  know  it  only  by  faith  in  the 
testimony  of  others. 

But  if  some  malicious  spirit  could  lay  upon 
an  entire  continent  the  spell  of  such  aesthetic 
stupor  and  blindness,  the  poor  victims  of  ab¬ 
surdity  would  not  only  be  increased  in  number, 
but  their  self-complacency  would  be  hopelessly 
secure.  Society  would  feel  the  folly  of  the 
transgressors  as  little  as  they  feel  their  own. 
The  only  hope  of  imparting  a  knowledge  of 
their  deficiency  would  be,  that  some  visitant 
from  a  more  genial  clime,  which  had  somehow  a 
prestige  of  infallibility  in  matters  of  taste,  might 
come  to  instruct  and  counsel.  But  even  if  the 
very  centre  of  taste  should  send  its  delegate  to 
become  their  guide,  how  evident  is  it  that  they 


UNCONSCIOUSNESS  OF  DEEP  GUILT. 


37 


could  not  understand  the  justice  of  his  plain 
censures.  They  would  unite,  perhaps,  in  be¬ 
lieving  that,  somehow,  they  were  ridiculously  at 
fault,  but  they  would  also  unite  in  saying  that 
they  could  not  feel  it.  Only  by  restoring  the 
taste  itself,  which  might  render  rebukes  unneces¬ 
sary,  could  you  make  them  realize  their  force. 

t /  '  V' 

Imagine,  for  a  moment,  that  the  round  earth 
were  thus  bound  by  a  Circean  spell,  and  ob¬ 
viously  no  thought  of  the  universal  folly  and 
degradation  would  disturb  them.  Were  a  mes- 
senger  from  heaven  to  announce  their  depravity 
in  taste,  he  would  be  met  by  the  same  wonder, 
the  same  theoretical  admission,  the  same  inward 
unconsciousness  of  fault.  In  short,  the  deficien¬ 
cy  might  be  held  as  a  matter  of  faith,  but  never 
as  a  fact  of  experience  or  consciousness. 

blow  we  aver  that,  analogous  to  the  operation 
of  this  faculty,  which  wakes  the  soul  to  the  full 
power  of  all  that  is  beautiful  and  harmonious  in 
the  material  creation,  and  all  that  is  inspiring  in 
thought  and  in  sentiment,  is  our  experience  of 
that  moral  taste,  and  sensibility  to  the  beauty  of 
holiness  and  the  pollution  of  sin,  which  alone  can 
guide  us  in  the  way  of  moral  excellence.  The 
laws  which  govern  the  one  are  analogous  to  the 
laws  which  regulate  the  other.  The  defective 


38 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


or  depraved  moral  taste,  at  each  successive  stage 
of  deterioration,  is  attended  by  a  corresponding 
insensibility  to  the  change ;  and  a  total  deprav¬ 
ity  of  moral  taste  would  bring  as  complete  un¬ 
consciousness  of  fault.  The  heart,  beneath  such 
a  benumbing  spell,  may,  through  fear  or  favour, 
obey  the  law  of  right.  It  may  theoretically  ad¬ 
mit  its  deficiencies  and  practical  errors;  but  the 
deep  sense  of  its  own  true  vileness  it  cannot  have. 
And,  by  the  same  analogy,  if  a  community,  or  a 
nation,  or  a  world,  were  thus  morally  defective, 
there  would  be  no  fair  appeal  against  the  charge 
of  personal  guilt  to  the  moral  sentiment  of  that 
world  at  large.  It  would,  of  course,  sustain  itself 
in  its  own  unconsciousness  of  its  true  jDosition. 
Should  a  voice  from  amid  the  thunders  of  Sinai, 
or  from  the  inmost  heaven,  declare  the  corrup¬ 
tion  of  the  race,  reason  might  demand  submis¬ 
sion  to  the  verdict,  but  the  truth  could  not  be 
realized  by  the  depraved  mind.  It  must  be  a 
conviction  of  faith,  and  not  of  feeling. 

We  are  not  saying  how  it  may  be  in  another 
sphere  of  existence,  or  in  the  life  beyond  the 
grave ;  but  reasoning  upon  man  as  he  is,  under 
the  present  dispensation  of  things,  certainly  ob¬ 
servation  justifies  our  conclusion.  Sin  brings  its 
own  insensibility.  The  most  hardened  criminal 


UNCONSCIOUSNESS  OF  DEEP  GUILT. 


39 


who  awaits  the  fatal  hour,  once  shrunk  from 
slight  transgressions ;  but  as  step  by  step  he  ven¬ 
tured  into  crime,  his  sensibility  grew  dull,  until, 
while  there  was  much  which  he  still  felt  to  be 
crime  indeed,  yet  he  could  perpetrate,  with 
scarcely  a  thought  of  shame  or  fear,  villanies 

V  o  J 

that  would  once  have  palsied  his  arm.  And 
now  he  knows  indeed,  theoretically,  his  sinful¬ 
ness  ;  and  can  discriminate  abstractly,  slight 
shades  of  wrong,  according  to  principles  of 

O  J  C  1  ju 

moral  judgment  learned  in  other  days:  but  he 

O  «/ 

has  long  since  ceased  to  feel  them.  He  can  now 
carouse,  and  sin,  and  blaspheme,  until  all  around 
him  shiver  with  dread,  and  yet  be  calm,  and 
think  their  scruples  weakness  or  hypocrisy.  His 
principles  and  his  sensibility  have  declined  to¬ 
gether. 

Hie  illustration  drawn  thus  from  aesthetics 
may  furnish  further  instruction,  if  we  observe  in 
those  who  have  but  little  taste,  the  distinct  ele¬ 
ments  of  a  power  to  see  the  beautiful,  and  a  de¬ 
sire  for  the  beautiful ;  and  that  the  perception 
of  what  is  correct  and  fitting  is  far  in  advance, 
generally,  of  the  real  sensibility  to  its  presence 
or  absence.  We  meet  many  whose  judgment  is 
tolerably  accurate,  but  their  conformity  is  sel- 
dom  so  exact,  even  where  no  special  hinderance 


40 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


prevents  it.  We  can  easily  imagine,  that  if  to  a 
spell-bound  world  some  slight  endowment  of  re¬ 
turning  taste  were  given,  then  in  a  low  degree 
its  citizens  might  judge  correctly  of  proprieties, 
and  could  understand  the  nature  of  a  deficiency 
in  taste,  although  they  could  not  realize  the  full 
extent  of  their  own  defect.  If  by  neglect  or  abuse 
they  gradually  lost  the  slight  sensibility  thus  be¬ 
stowed,  would  it  not  be  fair  to  argue  that,  just  as 
their  arrangements  are  now  absurd,  and  would 
be  felt  so  had  they  not  lost  the  measure  of  taste 
they  had ;  so,  while  they  yet  had  this  measure 
of  true  perception,  at  their  best  day,  they  may 
have  been  gniltv  of  a  thousand  follies,  which 
even  then  they  had  not  taste  enough  to  realize  ? 

May  we  not  say,  then,  that  even  if  the  Creator 
should  give  to  such  a  world,  utterly  sunk  in  sin, 
some  slight  moral  restoration,  the  analogy  would 
still  hold  good  ?  Might  we  not  expect  the  same 
limited  discrimination  in  certain  cases,  or  in  cer¬ 
tain  grades  of  moral  obligations — the  same  dis¬ 
proportion  between  the  abstract  perception  of 
moral  beauty  and  the  sensibility  which  is  drawn 
toward  it  ?  And  might  we  not  argue,  as  from  the 
instance  of  a  hardened  criminal,  that  just  as  he 
cannot  now  feel  the  enormity  of  his  crimes,  yet 
he,  as  well  as  those  around  him,  did  once  feel 


UNCONSCIOUSNESS  OF  DEEP  GUILT. 


41 


their  guilt ;  so  he  and  all  of  us,  in  our  best  days, 
may  have  been  insensible  to  wrongs  committed, 
and  evil  passions  cherished,  not  because  their 
guilt  was  not  real  and  appalling,  but  because 
even  then  we  were  still  so  depraved  that  we 
could  not  feel  it  ? 

The  argument  which  we  have  thus  far  drawn 
from  the  deadening  influence  of  transgression  on 
the  moral  sense,  step  by  step,  is  yet  more  beau¬ 
tifully  and  forcibly  illustrated  by  the  reverse  ex¬ 
perience  of  those  who  are  renewed  in  the  love 
of  God.  TTe  appeal  to  the  experience  and  to 
the  testimony  of  the  holiest,  in  every  age.  As 
they  became  more  and  more  partakers  of  the 
divine  nature,  freed  from  the  depravity  which 
was  once  their  felt  nature,  they  realized  with 
increasing  vividness  of  apprehension  how  far 
they  had  fallen,  how  basely  they  transgressed, 
how  fearfully  they  treasured  up  j  ust  wrath.  Then 
they  saw  the  exceeding  sinfulness  of  sin;  and 
when  most  conscious  of  salvation  through  grace, 
“  quite  on  the  verge  of  heaven,”  they  felt  most 
fully  how  lost  they  were  by  nature,  how  near 
the  verge  of  hell.  ISTor  are  such  experiences 
exceptions  in  the  Church ;  but  they  are  the  com¬ 
mon  heritage  of  her  saints  century  after  century, 
finding  a  response  in  myriads  of  retired  and  un- 


42 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


published  Christian  lives.  The  brilliant  intellect, 
the  sober  j  udgment,  the  habitual  self-denial,  the 
practical  energy,  which  have  marked  so  many 
of  the  moral  heroes  of  the  Church,  who  thus 
breathe  out  their  feeling,  forbid  the  cavil  that 
their  heightened  sense  of  guilt  was  the  result  of 
a  blundering  logic,  or  a  morbid  nervousness,  or 
the  pretence  of  hypocrisy.  They  leave  us  to 
reflect  that  if  we  had  attained  their  piety,  our 
purified  vision  might  see  things  in  the  same 
strong  light.  And,  O !  when  perfect  purity  of 
heart  combines  with  perfect  clearness  of  intellect 
in  the  world  to  come,  who  shall  say  that  we  may 
not  fully  coincide  with  the  severe  judgments 
passed  by  Him  whose  wisdom  and  purity  is  infi¬ 
nite?  Then  may  we  see  the  truthfulness  of  those 
strong  charges  of  sin.  and  guilt,  and  the  j  ustice 
of  those  penalties,  which  now  to  the  best  of  us 
seem  oftentimes  so  obscure. 

Let  the  esteemed  reader  remember,  that  the 
object  of  this  chapter  is  not  to  prove  the  total 
depravity  of  the  human  heart,  nor  even  to  assert 
any  degree  of  guilt,  but  only  to  show  that  under 
the  constitution  of  things  as  we  see  them,  the 
fact  of  unconsciousness  of  deep  sin  has  no  bear¬ 
ing  at  all  upon  the  question  of  guilt  or  innocence. 
We  may  be  innocent,  and  therefore  unconscious 


UNCONSCIOUSNESS  OF  DEEP  GUILT. 


43 


of  guilt.  But  we  should  he  as  unconscious,  con¬ 
stituted  as  we  now  are,  if  we  were  not  innocent. 
Our  moral  character  or  position  must  he  defined 
upon  other  authority  than  that  of  consciousness, 
either  individual  or  general.  If  the  sentence  of 
Him  whose  judgment  is  according  to  truth,  de¬ 
clare  our  innocence,  “it  is  God  that  justifieth; 
and  who  is  he  that  condemneth?”  But  if  his 
plain  and  solemn  verdict  be  of  guilt,  then  it 
matters  not  how  severe  its  denunciations,  nor 
how  humiliating  its  portraitures ;  we  are  not  free 
to  slight  the  solemn  charge,  because  the  moral 
palsy  that  has  struck  the  soul  benumbs  it,  as  it 
dies. 

But  this  subject  demands  further  attention. 
While  we  boldly  assert  that  in  this  life ,  and  in 
our  present  constitution ,  sin  brings  insensibility 
to  its  presence  and  its  guilt,  yet  we  frankly  ad¬ 
mit  that  this  is  not  what  we  should  expect. 
Apart  from  any  observation  of  facts,  the  in¬ 
stinctive  moral  judgment  would  be,  that  remorse 
must  inseparably  follow  sin,  and  each  deeper 
grade  of  evil  bring  its  own  sting,  and  each  new 
crime  an  added  self-contempt.  Such,  moreover, 
by  general  admission,  is  the  law  of  retribution  in 
the  world  to  come — the  fate  of  the  wicked  soul 
and  the  doom  of  the  apostate  angel.  However 


44 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


the  facts  and  laws  of  our  present  constitution 
may  be  too  obvious  for  dispute,  and  seemingly 
at  variance  with  the  great  law  of  retribution,  a 
brief  investigation  will  show  ns  that  the  present 
arrangement  is  but  a  temporary  suspension  of 
the  eternal  law,  introduced  to  serve  great  pur¬ 
poses  in  the  moral  government  of  the  world. 

For  what  would  be  the  effect  of  the  removal 
of  such  a  suspension  upon  the  world  at  large, 
with  all  its  variety  of  moral  character;  upon  its 
prospects  of  salvation,  and  its  state  of  probation? 
Let  one  terrific  fiasli  disclose  to  every  soul  all 

t / 

its  deformity  and  vileness — the  meanness  of  its 
«/ 

selfishness — the  loathsomeness  of  its  lusts — the 
emptiness  of  its  generosity — the  gangrene  of  its 
ingratitude — its  hatred,  at  the  core,  of  good! 
TF e  know  the  experience  of  many  who  suddenly 
awake,  in  part,  to  a  knowledge  of  themselves. 
Smitten  with  a  consciousness  of  moral  leprosy, 
they  fain  would  fly  from  all  contact  with  life, 
and  groan  in  solitary  shame :  or,  stung  to  fury 
by  the  humiliating  exposure,  they  only  rave  in 
bitter  blasphemy,  and  plunge  into  wanton  crime. 
Unnerved  and  paralyzed,  they  have  no  heart  for 
life’s  duties,  of  labour  or  of  kindness,  and  sink 
in  lethargy;  or  else  they  seek  in  the  hurricane 
of  passion  to  distract  their  thoughts  from  the 


UNCONSCIOUSNESS  OF  DEEP  GUILT. 


45 


intolerable  sense  of  self-contempt.  If  in  others 
they  recognise  a  purer  spirit,  they  quail  before 
it,  or  dwell  with  jealousy  on  its  superiority.  If 
they  meet  a  spirit  like  their  own,  they  loathe 
and  hate  it  with  vindictive  dread.  Even  though 
they  are  drawn  by  the  Spirit  of  all  love ;  although 
trained  from  childhood  to  expect  forgiveness,  and 
firm  in  faith  of  all  the  facts  and  principles  of  re¬ 
demption  ;  although  encircled  by  friends  who 
themselves  have  tested  and  proven  the  faithful¬ 
ness  of  God,  and  who  animate  their  fainting 
courage,  yet  how  hardly  can  they  credit  the  idea 
that  they  can  be  forgiven  and  saved.  For  all 
others  the  stricken  spirit  deems  the  promise  free. 
The  atonement  and  its  offer  he  deems  universal 
with  but  one  exception,  and  that  one  heart  his 

t 

own.  It  may  have  been  that  a  possibility  of 
salvation  was  once  vouchsafed;  but  it  is  gone  by 
forever.  The  sense  of  insulted  justice  and  of 
personal  responsibility  is  so  pungent,  that  the 
idea  of  a  love  that  would  forgive,  and  above  all, 
of  a  sacrificial  death,  with  any  reference  to  him, 
seems  utterly  incredible ;  and  long  and  wearily 
many  an  awakened  sinner  mourns  before,  amid 
all  gospel  privileges,  he  ventures  a  gospel  faith, 
let  this  is  the  result  of  only  a  partial  illumina¬ 
tion  of  only  a  few  scattered  individuals,  who  can 


46 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


be  taught  and  sustained  bv  others.  But  what 

O  1/ 

if  upon  earth's  whole  population  were  shed  at 
once  that  terrific  glare,  lighting  up  the  loath¬ 
someness  of  the  heart’s  deepest  caverns  ?  The 
sincerest  offer  of  salvation  to  the  remorseful  hosts 
of  hell  would  seem  a  mockery  and  a  gibe ;  and 
even  the  forgiveness  of  man  must  be  a  fathomless 


mvsterv  to  Gehenna :  a  fact  the  inability  to  real- 
ize  which,  may  alone  sustain  the  hopes  and  energy 
of  those  who  oppose  the  redemption  of  each  suc¬ 
cessive  penitent.  It  may  be  that  the  soul,  once 
let  to  see  its  fullest  guilt,  would  find  it  morally 
impossible  to  believe  in  offered  pardon.  And 
even  if  some  did  trust  the  promise,  what  would 
earth  be  with  the  presence  of  those  who  rejected 
all  ?  So  long  as  men  do  not  realize  their  moral 
degradation,  many  a  motive  of  merit,  or  pride, 
or  generosity,  mav  avail  to  check  the  outward 
crime ;  but  the  full  exposure  of  a  man's  worth 
lessness,  if  it  lead  him  not  to  the  cross,  will  goad 
him  to  a  sevenfold  frenzy.  It  is  obvious,  then, 
that  the  apparent  exception  to  the  law  of  remorse 
and  sin  is  an  actual  fact ;  and  that  to  preserve 
the  order  and  the  very  being  of  society,  to  make 
salvation  credible  and  probation  a  reality,  there 
must  be  such  a  suspension  of  the  association  be¬ 
tween  sin  and  the  consciousness  of  guilt.  So  far, 


UNCONSCIOUSNESS  OF  DEEP  GUILT.  47 

then,  is  the  general  feeling  of  innocence,  or  slight 
sense  of  danger,  from  affording  any  presumption 
of  human  innocence,  that  it  were  to  he  antici¬ 
pated,  no  matter  how  depraved  we  are. 

These  considerations  are  heightened  by  the 
connexion  between  the  sense  of  guilt  and  the 
fear  of  punishment.  Involved  in  remorse,  yet  dis¬ 
tinct  from  it,  is  the  “  fearful  looking  for  of  fiery 
indignation,”  which  fills  the  future  with  terrible 
inflictions,  as  remorse  shrouds  the  present  and 
the  past  in  anguish.  Under  the  felt  justice  of 
God’s  moral  government,  the  conscience  always 
demands  and  anticipates  an  exact  proportion  be¬ 
tween  the  degree  of  sin  and  the  severity  of  the 
penalty;  and  so  instinctively  and  of  necessity 
does  it  abide  by  this  rule,  that  any  apparent  dis¬ 
proportion  in  the  threatened  judgment  compels 
a  tacit,  if  not  a  definite  rej  ection  of  its  truth.  If 
the  threatened  penalty  be  too  light,  the  slight¬ 
ness  of  its  sentence  brings  no  quiet,  for  more  is 
felt  to  lie  behind ;  if  the  penalty  be  too  great, 
and  especially  if  far  beyond  the  guilt,  the  threat¬ 
ening  is  disbelieved,  its  practical  influence  is 
neutralized,  and  perhaps  an  indignant  sense  is 
roused,  as  of  an  oppression  which  cannot  last  for¬ 
ever. 

We  dwell  upon  this  point  because,  without 


48 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


doubt,  it  affords  the  explanation  of  many  of  the 
avowed  heresies,  and  much  of  the  silent  scep¬ 
ticism  of  the  present  day,  on  the  subj  ect  of  future 
punishment.  The  diffused  spirit  of  the  gospel 
itself  has  deepened  our  aversion  to  the  thought 
of  pain,  and  our  sympathy  with  others;  and 
men,  less  accustomed  than  of  old  to  think  ar¬ 
bitrary  power,  or  the  revengeful  caprice  of  old 
authority,  a  sufficient  ground  for  human  oppres¬ 
sion,  reject  also  that  idea  of  God  which  answers 
all  questioning  of  his  ways  by  a  deference  to 
his  almighty  will.  Men  who  demand  nothing 
more,  demand  at  least  justice  from  God.  They 
feel  that  any  excess  of  punishment  over  desert 
were  a  wrong  toward  the  sufferer — a  wanton  out¬ 
rage  of  an  eternal  law,  which  the  Deity  cannot 
break.  They  demand,  therefore,  a  punishment 
proportioned  to  the  guilt ;  and  here  they  are  at 
fault.  Where  shall  they  find  a  standard  of  guilt 
and  desert?  Men  cannot  calculate  moral  evil  and 
its  due  by  mathematics;  and  any  demonstration 
into  which  the  finite  mind  attempts  to  bring  the 
“ infinite,5’  soon  leads  to  confusion.  Men  judge 
by  the  instinctive  feeling-  of  their  own  hearts. 
If  their  sense  of  human  guilt  demands  not  all 
that  Scrip  time  threatens,  they  will  reject  it:  they 
may  admit  the  plainness  of  its  language,  and  the 


UNCONSCIOUSNESS  OF  DEEP  GUILT. 


49 


clearness  of  its  argument ;  but  if  the  standard  in 
their  conscience  is  a  sure  measure  of  desert,  then 
Scripture  must  be  rejected  or  explained  away. 
The  question  falls  back,  then,  upon  the  previous 
point  now  under  consideration  in  this  chapter ; 
and  all  their  indignant  eloquence,  and  all  their 
fancied  security  is  dashed  by  the  fact,  that  our 

«/  t j  J 

consciousness  affords  no  measure  of  our  true 
desert.  Observation  of  human  experience  shows 
that  remorse  is  not  graduated  according  to  our 
sin,  but  is  dulled  by  deepening  transgression ; 
and  we  find  that  a  depraved  race  under  proba¬ 
tion,  must  be  kept  from  realizing  its  full  depravity. 

For,  to  resume  our  last  argument,  by  the  same 
necessity  by  which  we  reject  all  above  the  de¬ 
served  threatening,  the  remorseful  spirit  needs 
no  revelation  to  inform  it  of  future  woe,  but, 
■with  an  eye  it  cannot  close,  glares  wildly  out  on 
its  coming  doom.  Within  the  awakened  soul, 
that,  like  a  bark,  is  swept  down  the  foul  stream 
of  corruption,  conscience  stands  with  her  up¬ 
lifted  torch ;  and  as  the  sickened  spirit  turns  from 
the  fetid  billows  of  the  past  and  present,  the 
ilurid  glare  lights  up  the  dread  abyss  to  which 
the  tide  is  rushing  on,  and  each  brightening 
gleam  flashes  into  view  more  frightful  and  ap¬ 
palling  retributions.  The  sense  of  wrath  to  come 


4 


50 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


may  well  combine  with  a  sense  of  sin,  to  form  a 
powerful  motive  to  repentance ;  but  if  its  con¬ 
ceptions  of  judgment  be  too  vivid,  they  blast  all 
hopes  and  crush  all  energy.  There  have  been 
instances  where  a  vivid  realization  of  these  stern 
verities,  unrelieved  and  unsupported  by  corre¬ 
sponding  views  of  an  atoning  Saviour ;  or,  it  may 
be,  pressing  on  a  mind  whose  mortal  frame  was 
much  enfeebled,  has  shattered  with  one  stroke 
the  intellect  and  the  body,  and  laid  the  poor 
wreck  in  a  maniac’s  grave. 

Therefore  is  it  that  a  race  of  beings  so  de¬ 
praved  cannot  be  permitted  to  realize  its  guilt, 
nor  its  future ;  but  must  listen  to  the  revelation 
which  can  inform,  without  overwhelming  them. 
This  strange  insensibility  of  ours  is  like  a  shel¬ 
tering  cloud,  between  us  and  the  burning  Eye 
above  us ;  and  in  its  tempered  ray  we  may  pur¬ 
sue  the  toils,  and  take  the  slumbers,  and  perform 
the  kindly  offices,  which  secure  a  long  probation 
for  ourselves,  and  for  coming  generations :  and 
yet  we  may  argue  from  the  keenness  of  the 
muffled  beam,  the  power  of  its  naked  stroke. 
But  if  the  full  fearfulness  of  the  living  God 
should  burst  forth  with  intensest  blaze,  all  hu¬ 
man  strength,  and  intellect,  and  energy,  and 
hope,  would  sink  and  wither  in  that  blight. 


UXCOXSCIOUSXESS  OF  deep  guilt. 


51 


Is  it  not  clear,  then,  that  to  meet  the  very  first 
condition  of  a  probationary  dispensation,  the 
human  race,  if  so  deeply  depraved,  must  be  kept 
from  a  due  sense  of  sin  and  a  just  expectation 
of  punishment,  realized  and  perpetually  over¬ 
whelming  ?  If  a  state  of  innocence  would  be 
attended  by  the  absence  of  remorse,  so  also  must 
the  state  of  evil,  while  yet  pardon  and  salvation 
are  to  be  offered.  The  actual  state  of  the  human 
conscience,  in  regard  to  its  moral  position,  is  as 
accordant  with  the  supposition  of  our  guilt  as 
with  that  of  our  innocence.  And  therefore  the 
fact  with  which  we  started,  and  whose  truth  we 
still  admit, — the  fact  that  the  strong  language  of 
Scripture  is  not  corroborated  by  the  voice  of  our 
own  consciousness, — affords  us  no  refuse;  but 
we  must  believe,  and  act  upon,  the  terrible 
charges  which  we  cannot  feel. 

Faith  in  our  own  deep  guilt,  is  the  neces¬ 
sary  precursor  of  faith  in  the  atoning  power 
of  that  Sacrifice  which  none  can  fully  com- 
prehend.  It  is  not  needful  that  the  sufferer 
on  the  verge  of  the  grave  shall  be  able  to  feel 
the  death-chill  creeping  over  every  nerve,  and 
comprehend  just  how  the  mortification,  which 
is  death-begun,  is  preying  upon  his  vitals.  It  is 
not  needful  that  he  should  comprehend  the  whole 


52 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


philosophy  of  the  remedy  proposed.  So  that  the 
physician  comprehends  it,  and  can  give  to  him 
the  sure  results — th q  fact  of  mortal  illness,  and 
the  fact  of  saving  virtue  in  the  remedy — the 
sinking  man  is  bound  to  believe  both  his  “  dan¬ 
ger  and  his  remedy  ”  to  be  as  he  who  must  know 
assures  him  they  are.  To  realize  the  very  pro¬ 
cess  of  mortality  might  overpower  him ;  but  to 
believe  the  fact  may  only  fit  him  for  energetic 
action.  So  the  unerring  Physician  reveals  to  us 
the  fact  of  our  depravity,  and  the  fact  of  the 
power  of  the  atonement ;  and  the  highest  reason 
receives  and  acts  upon  both  by  faith. 

This  same  principle,  of  revealing  the  true  na¬ 
ture  and  results  of  sin  only  as  mankind  are  able 
to  bear  it,  will  be  found  to  have  marked  the 
whole  course  of  God’s  progressive  revelation. 
The  glimmering  light  of  patriarchal  days,  with 
its  obscure  hints  of  the  coming  Sacrifice,  threw 
its  feeble  ray  only,  or  mainly,  over  the  temporal 
and  material  rewards  of  transgression,  and  seems 
to  have  left  a  slight  sense  of  sin.  The  clear  and 
systematic  thunderings  of  Sinai,  graving  the  in¬ 
flexible  moral  law  in  rigid  stone,  and  with  terrific 
energy  denouncing  every  temporal  curse  and 
heavier  shadows  of  a  future  doom,  were  compen¬ 
sated  and  sustained  by  the  pattern  of  all  things 


UNCONSCIOUSNESS  OF  DEEP  GUILT. 


shown  to  Moses  on  the  Mount, — the  shadow  of 
good  things  to  come,  the  all-atoning  sacrifices,  and 
the  prevailing  intercession.  And  as  the  brighten¬ 
ing  orb  of  revelation  rose,  until  it  culminated 
above  the  Mountain  of  Beatitudes,  disclosing  all 
the  malignity  and  loathsomeness  of  sin,  and  all  the 
vastitude  of  its  spiritual  and  eternal  retribution, 
its  fight  shone  with  an  equal  ray  upon  the  dying 
form  on  Calvary,  whose  “blood  cleanseth  from 

t/  J 

all  unrighteousness.”  The  sinner’s  real  nature 
was  not  fully  disclosed,  until  his  shuddering  and 
averted  glance  could  rest  on  Jesus.  It  is  the 

o 

presentation  of  the  sin  and  the  law,  in  its  full 
revelation,  without  the  corresponding  refuge,  by 
which  an  apostate  Church,  in  every  age,  has  un¬ 
fitted  her  most  sensitive  and  earnest  souls  for 
fife's  common  duties,  and  driven  them  to  the 

cloister  and  self-torture.  And  it  is  by  that 

«/ 

mercy  which  spares  a  useless  agony,  that  it  is 
not  until  the  Christian  soul  has  had  much  expe¬ 
rience  of  the  depth  of  a  Father’s  love,  and  clear 
vision  of  a  Saviour’s  everlasting  priesthood,  that 
God  imparts  that  deepest  sense  of  the  sinfulness 
of  sin,  which  breathes  from  the  mournful  but 
trusting  hearts  of  his  holiest  children. 

But  under  each  successive  dispensation,  and 
with  all  the  varying  sensibility  of  each  indi- 

O  c / 


54 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


vidual  soul,  the  fact  of  man’s  depravity  and 
danger  lias  been  left  to  the  authority  of  Jeho¬ 
vah’s  word  alone.  We  may  act  upon  that  au¬ 
thority — or  perish.  The  criminal  at  the  bar  is 
judged,  not  by  the  voice  of  his  own  seared  con¬ 
science,  but  by  the  unimpaired  and  disinterested 
sentiment  of  his  jury  and  his  judge.  And  he 
who,  while  yet  a  u  prisoner  of  hope,”  derides 
his  Maker’s  verdict,  will  not  be  able  to  infect  the 
Judge  of  all  with  the  blindness  of  his  own  vision. 
If  we  yield  to  the  testimony  of  God,  and  strive 
to  act  upon  its  verity,  it  will  impress  the  soul 
with  a  motive  which  will  urge  it,  without  over¬ 
whelming  it,  to  the  cross.  But  know  thou,  O 
man !  that  thy  unconsciousness  of  guilt  is  not 
thy  birthright :  it  is  but  the  momentary  pause, 
before  the  final  paroxysm  of  remorse,  that  in 
this  instant  thou  mayest  take  the  cup  of  salva¬ 
tion,  and  avert  it  forever ! 


III. 

Oje  fumpral  XlrUrartis  of  Hontlitu. 


“  Moral  government  consists  not  barely  in  rewarding  and 
punishing  men  for  their  actions,  which  the  most  tyrannical 
person  may  do :  but  in  rewarding  the  righteous  and  punish¬ 
ing  the  wicked  —  in  rendering  to  men  according  to  their 
actions,  considered  as  good  or  evil.  And  the  perfection  of 
moral  government  consists  in  doing  this,  with  regard  to  all 
intelligent  creatures,  in  an  exact  proportion  to  their  personal 
merits  or  demerits.” 

Butlee’s  Analogy. 

“Verily,  I  say  unto  you,  They  have  their  reward.” 

Matt  vi,  <L 


III. 


THE  TEMPORAL  REWARDS  OF  MORALITY  NO  GUAR¬ 
ANTEE  OF  FUTURE  BLESSEDNESS. 

The  argument  of  tlie  last  chapter  was  purely 
negative — not  designed  to  prove  the  depravity  of 
human  nature,  hut  only  to  silence  one  presump¬ 
tion  against  the  idea  of  deep  guilt.  The  testi- 

monv  of  consciousness  was  set  aside.  But  there 
«/ 

may  he  other  presumptions  which  cannot  he  so 
easily  disposed  of.  For  instance,  does  not  the 
Supreme  Euler  of  the  world  mark  his  approba¬ 
tion  of  the  right,  and  his  hatred  of  the  wrong, 
by  visible  signs  of  favour  or  abhorrence  ?  If  his 
threatened  visitations  of  calamity  give  token  of 
his  wrath,  must  not  his  crowns  of  honour  and 
blessing  be  taken  as  seals  of  his  esteem  and  love  ? 
Does  not  God  carefully,  and  with  discrimination, 
reward  each  successive  grade  of  virtuous  action ; 
and  would  he  do  it  were  all  grades  alike  worthless 
and  despised?  In  brief,  is  not  this  constant  and 
minute  acknowledgment  of  the  natural  virtues 
and  moralities  an  evidence  that  there  is  that  in 


58 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


them  which  awakes  the  love  of  God — a  love 
which  certainly  is  not  affected  by  disrobement 
of  the  mortal  vesture,  and  which  therefore  must 
continue,  and  shed  its  blessings  on  the  life  beyond 
the  tomb? 

Certainly  this  presumption  has  root  in  the 
deepest  and  most  intuitive  perceptions  of  our 
moral  nature.  The  idea  of  holiness  and  that  of 
happiness  are  not  more  instinctive  and  abiding 
than  the  recognition  of  their  natural  association. 
It  is  not  merely  a  sense  of  poetic  propriety — of 
a  connexion  which,  however  pleasing,  may  be 
lightly  broken ;  but  it  has  been  the  testimony 
of  the  human  heart  always  and  everywhere,  that 
by  an  essential  and  eternal  fitness  of  things,  holi¬ 
ness  and  happiness  ought  to  be  inseparable,  and 
the  pure  should  be  the  blessed.  Passion  and  self¬ 
ishness  may  have  swayed  men  to  oppression,  even 
of  the  good  ;  but  the  soul  has  borne  fearful  wit¬ 
ness  against  itself.  When  no  conflict  of  self- 
interest  prevails,  men  delight  to  honour  virtue ; 
they  rej  oice  to  guard  it  against  suffering,  and  to 
multiply  its  sources  of  happiness ;  they  exult  in  its 
providential  accession  to  high  honours  and  influ¬ 
ence  ;  and  illustrious  examples  of  goodness  have 
disarmed  the  rapacity  of  the  robber,  and  the 
recklessness  of  the  assassin,  and  have  been  spared, 


TEMPORAL  REWARDS  OF  MORALITY. 


59 


as  exempt  by  right  from  the  common  lot  and 
desert  of  men.  And,  on  the  other  hand,  how¬ 
ever  averse  the  heart  may  he  to  the  infliction  of 
suffering,  it  finds  a  strange  satisfaction  in  the 
retribution  which  befalls  the  wicked.  The  very 
constitution  of  human  nature  leads  us  to  expect 
this  correspondence  between  the  moral  character 
of  our  actions  and  their  results. 

Again,  if  there  is  a  Being:  who  controls  all  the 
events  of  life,  and  who  is  at  all  interested  in  our 
actions  and  feelings,  we  may  naturally  suppose 
that,  whatever  may  be  the  moral  character  of  his 
purposes,  he  will  dispense  his  blessing  or  his 
curse  according  to  his  personal  favour  or  dislike 
toward  each  of  his  creatures.  And  if  the  prin¬ 
ciples  of  his  administration  be  those  same  prin¬ 
ciples  of  reverence  for  moral  purity  which  under¬ 
lie  our  own  moral  nature,  we  should  expect  the 
correspondence  between  reward  and  merit  to  be 
so  constant  that  either  might  be  inferred  from 
the  other :  so  that  the  visible  tokens  of  God’s 
blessing  would  intimate  at  once  his  own  good' 
will,  and  the  virtue  of  the  human  recipient  of  his 
benefits.  Exceptions  might  appear;  but  where 
regular  laws  of  administration  distributed  re¬ 
wards  to  whole  classes  of  actions,  we  should 
seem  assured  that  those  actions,  as  a  class,  can- 


60 


NATUEAJL  GOODNESS. 


not  be  the  expression  of  a  heart  which  the  moral 
Governor  abhors.  Would  He,  who  cannot  be 
deceived  by  the  mere  semblance  of  virtue,  be¬ 
stow  upon  that  mere  semblance  the  tokens  of  his 
favour  ? 

So  far  as  national  and  collective  blessings  and 
calamities  are  concerned,  every  age  of  the  world, 
heathen  or  Christian,  has  recognised  this  princi¬ 
ple.  Famine,  War,  and  Pestilence;  the  storms 
that  wreck  our  argosies,  and  the  conflagrations 
that  annihilate  the  wealth  of  cities,  are  all  re¬ 
ceived  as  messengers  of  wrath  from  an  avenging 
Deity,  even  when  there  is  no  natural  connexion 
traceable  between  the  national  sin  and  its  retri¬ 
bution  :  and  of  course,  when  the  plague  is  stayed, 
and  prosperity  returns,  it  argues  the  returning 
favour  of  the  Sovereign  Disposer  of  events.  In 
all  God's  dealings  with  his  early  Church,  these 
temporal  blessings  and  curses  were  held  out  as 
the  sure  insignia  of  his  favour  or  his  wrath. 
“And  all  these  blessings  shall  come  upon  thee, 
if  thou  shalt  hearken  unto  the  voice  of  the  Lord 
thy  God.  Blessed  shalt  thou  be  in  basket  and 
in  store ;  in  all  that  thou  settest  thy  hand  unto. 
But  if  thou  wilt  not  hearken  unto  the  voice  of 
the  Lord  thy  God,  the  Lord  shall  send  upon  thee 
cursing,  and  vexation  and  rebuke,  in  all  that 


TEMPORAL  REWARDS  OF  MORALITY. 


61 


thou  settest  thy  hand  for  to  do.”  Dent,  xxviii. 
Every  woe  that  can  befall  the  body  or  estate  is 
threatened  as  the  sure  index  of  wrath.  So  in  the 
decalogue  there  is  the  commandment  with  prom¬ 
ise — “  that  thy  days  maybe  long  in  the  land  which 
the  Lord  thy  God  giveth  thee.”  Rewards  and 
punishments  are  constantly  held  up  in  the  Scrip¬ 
tures,  as  the  visible  tokens  of  a  present  discrimi¬ 
nation  between  the  pure  and  the  vile.  And,  in 
fine,  the  idea  of  personal  approval  or  condemna¬ 
tion  has  been  so  invariably  associated  with  the 
consequences  of  individual  actions  or  habits  of 
action,  that  the  ablest  writers  on  Natural  Theol- 
ogy  appeal  to  the  ordinary  visitations  of  Provi¬ 
dence  as  the  strongest  proof,  with  all  its  anoma¬ 
lous  cases,  that  the  Governor  of  the  universe 
hates  sin  and  loves  virtue. 

Surely,  then,  if  we  should  observe  the  measure 
in  which  the  just  Ruler  dispenses  his  rewards 
and  his  punishments  to  nations  and  to  indi¬ 
viduals,  we  might  appear  to  have  a  rule  by 
which  to  measure  his  estimate  of  their  actual 
virtue  or  vice  ;  and  his  estimate  must  be  correct. 
W e  certainly  should  find  that,  as  a  general  rule, 
those  who  observe  the  moralities  of  life  are  at¬ 
tended  with  his  blessing ;  that  while  the  hours 
of  acutest  suffering  may  outnumber  the  hours 


62 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


of  ecstatic  joy,  yet  the  most  of  life  is  passed  in 
a  tempered  state,  where  a  sense  of  moderate 
peace  and  satisfaction  predominates  over  care 
and  pain  of  spirit.  The  man  of  high  morality 
is  seldom  a  really  unhappy  man.  He  does  not 
loathe  life.  Days  when  social  converse  or  hon¬ 
ourable  pursuit  cannot  make  him  forget  his 
trials,  are  very  rare.  Such  men  smile  easily. 
The  trials  which  they  have  may  he  tokens  of 
imperfection ;  but  the  preponderance  of  blessing 
which  they  eniov  would  seem  to  be  a  token  of 
ascendant  and  progressive  virtue,  and  accepta¬ 
bility  before  God.  Those  who  charge  upon  all 
natural  virtues  and  moralities  an  utter  worth¬ 
lessness  before  God,  should  certainly  be  called 
upon  to  show  why  the  seal  of  God’s  favour  is 
not  designed  to  attest  his  approval,  or  to  say 
why  he  ordains  such  deceptive  consequences  as 
lull  to  sleep  the  conscience  of  the  insincere  and 
the  unsafe.  If  the  temporal  rewards  of  morality 
are  not  the  Inspector’s  brand,  marking  its  sound 
ness,  what  are  they  ? 

These  questions  we  propose  to  answer.  We 
shall  show, — 

That  temporal  consequences  do  not  evince  the 
moral  character  of  the  actor. 


TEMPOEAL  KEWAEDS  OF  MOKALITT. 


63 


That  they  are  designed  to  evince,  nevertheless, 
the  moral  character  of  Jehovah. 

That  they  subserve  further  purposes  in  the 
plan  of  redemption,  and  are  essential  to  it. 

And,  as  a  preliminary  argument,  we  shall  show 

That,  conceding  for  a  moment  that  temporal 
rewards  do  witness  the  divine  favour,  they  do 
not  witness  such  favour  as  will  avert  eternal 
punishment. 

We  may  say  with  accuracy  sufficient,  that 
morality  consists  in  the  observance  of  those 
duties  which  a  man  owes  to  others  and  to  him¬ 
self  ;  and  which  are  announced  to  him  either  by 
the  voice  of  revelation,  or  by  the  moral  sense 
within  him,  in  view  of  the  relations  in  which 
he  is  placed.  But  it  will  give  more  definiteness 
to  our  present  argument  to  analyze  morality 
into  its  several  departments,  and  to  observe  the 
nature  and  peculiar  rewards  of  several  of  the 
separate  moralities. 

There  is,  for  instance,  a  physical  morality. 
The  word  of  God,  in  specific  language,  or  in 
implied  direction,  commands  a  life  of  temper¬ 
ance  in  food  and  beverage,  a  strict  restraint 
upon  the  licentious  appetites,  regular  industry 
and  labour,  cleanliness  of  person  and  apparel, 


64 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


and  observance  of  frequent  days  of  rest.  The 
general  moral  sense  of  mankind  lias  given  to 
most  of  these  rules  an  independent  sanction. 
Now,  although  the  result  of  such  physical  mo¬ 
rality  is  not  the  sole  object  of  its  injunction  in 
Scripture,  nor  are  all  the  consequences  clearly 
foreseen,  where  the  unaided  moral  sense  enjoins 
it ;  yet  the  sure  tendency  of  such  observances  is 
to  bring  the  entire  bodv  to  that  state  where  all 
its  parts  of  blood  and  bone  and  muscle,  of  sensi¬ 
tive  nerve  and  organic  functions,  are  fitted  in 
their  separate  and  mutual  action  to  give  the 
frame  its  highest  power  of  strength  and  en¬ 
durance,  and  fitness  for  all  the  peculiar  purposes 
of  its  existence :  and  in  the  mere  physical  con¬ 
sciousness  of  this  healthful  existence,  there  is  a 
physical  happiness.  It  is  not  merely  the  absence 
of  pain  and  uneasiness,  but  a  positive  feeling  of 
buoyancy  and  exhilaration.  And  just  in  pro¬ 
portion  as  those  laws  are  not  observed,  there  is 
a  corresponding  loss  of  their  physical  rewards, 
and  a  gradual  sinking  into  positive  suffering  and 
disease.  “Even  as  we  walk  the  streets  we  meet 
with  illustrations  of  each  extreme.  Here  behold 
a  patriarch,  whose  stock  of  vigour  threescore 
years  and  ten  seem  hardly  to  have  impaired. 
His  erect  form,  his  firm  step,  his  elastic  limbs, 


TEMPORAL  REWARDS  OF  MORALITY. 


65 


and  undimmed  senses,  are  so  many  certificates 
of  good  conduct ;  or,  rather,  so  many  j  ewels  and 
orders  of  nobility  with  which  nature  has  horn 
oured  him  for  his  fidelity  to  her  laws.  His  fair 
complexion  shows  that  his  blood  has  never  been 
corrupted ;  his  pure  breath,  that  he  has  never 
yielded  his  digestive  apparatus  for  a  vintner’s 
cess-pool ;  his  exact  language  and  keen  appre¬ 
hension,  that  his  brain  has  never  been  drugged 
or  stupified  by  the  poisons  of  distiller  or  tobac¬ 
conist.  Enjoying  his  powers  to  the  highest,  he 
has  preserved  the  power  of  enjoying  them. 
JDesnite  the  moral  of  the  school-boy’s  story,  he 
has  eaten  his  cake  and  still  kept  it.  As  he  drains 
the  cup  of  life,  there  are  no  lees  at  the  bottom. 
His  organs  will  reach  the  goal  of  existence  to¬ 
gether.  Painlessly  as  a  candle  burns  down  in 
its  socket,  so  will  he  expire  ;  and  a  little  imagin¬ 
ation  would  convert  him  into  another  Enoch, 
translated  from  earth  to  a  better  world  without 
the  sting  of  death. 

“  But  look  at  an  opposite  extreme,  where  an 

opposite  history  is  recorded.  What  wreck  so 

shocking  to  behold  as  the  wreck  of  a  dissolute 

man :  the  vigour  of  life  exhausted,  and  yet  the 

first  steps  in  an  honourable  career  not  taken ;  in 

himself  a  lazar-house  of  diseases ;  dead,  but  by 

5 


66 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


a  heathenish  custom  of  society  not  buried ! 
Rogues  have  had  the  initial  letter  of  the  title 
burnt  into  the  palms  of  their  hands.  Even  for 
murder,  Cain  was  only  branded  on  the  forehead ; 
but  over  the  whole  person  of  the  debauchee,  or 
the  inebriate,  the  signatures  of  infamy  are  writ¬ 
ten.  How  nature  brands  him  with  stigma  and 
opprobrium !  How  she  hangs  labels  all  over 
him,  to  testify  her  disgust  at  his  existence,  and 
to  admonish  others  of  his  example !  How  she 
loosens  all  his  joints,  sends  tremors  along  his 
muscles,  and  bends  forward  his  frame,  as  if  to 
bring  him  upon  all-fours  with  kindred  brutes, 
or  to  degrade  him  to  the  reptile’s  crawling ! 
How  she  disfigures  his  countenance,  as  if  intent 
upon  obliterating  all  traces  of  her  own  image,  so 
that  she  may  swear  she  never  made  him  !  How 
she  pours  rheum  over  his  eyes,  sends  foul  spirits 
to  inhabit  his  breath,  and  shrieks,  as  with  a 
trumpet,  from  every  pore  of  his  body,  6  BE¬ 
HOLD  A  BEAST !’  ”* 

Such,  then,  are  the  rewards  and  the  retribu¬ 
tions  which  sanction  a  physical  morality. 

There  is  an  intellectual  moralitv — a  moralitv 

«y  o' 

not  yet  comprehended  as  such  by  society,  and 
not  specifically  commanded  in  the  word  of  God, 


°  Horace  Mann’s  “Thoughts  for  a  Young  Man." 


TEMPORAL  REWARDS  OF  MORALITY. 


67 


because  its  full  exercise  or  rejection  is  only  pos¬ 
sible  in  those  advanced  stages  of  civilization  and 
freedom  upon  which  the  race  has  scarcely  en¬ 
tered  ;  but  a  morality  destined  vet  to  take  its 
place  beside  the  recognised  duties  of  man,  and 
urge  its  claims  as  forcibly,  and  with  as  palpable 
sanctions  as  even  physical  virtue.  Careful  ob¬ 
servation,  sober  thought,  close  application  in 
study,  truthfulness  in  argument,  indulgence  of 
the  fancy  only  as  it  may  sweep  through  space 
as  the  satellite  of  reason — these  will  be  some 
of  the  injunctions  in  the  decalogue  of  that  new 
morality.  And  it  will  have  its  reward :  the 
quick,  clear  perception,  accurate  and  ready 
memory,  sound  judgment,  clearness  and  reach 
of  logic,  and  the  chastened  imagination  that,  like 
heaven's  light,  tints  with  ethereal  colouring  the 
blade,  and  the  ear,  and  the  full  corn  of  thought, 
and  crowns  fertility  with  beauty. 

But  there  is  a  social  morality,  recognised  from 
the  beoinnino;.  The  commandments  of  the  sec- 
ond  table  of  the  decalogue,  explained  by  the 
sermon  on  the  mount ;  the  dictates  of  that  social 
justice  which  reverences  the  rights  of  others  in 
person,  or  estate,  or  character,  and  the  minuter 
and  less  definable  duties,  revealed  by  the  diviner 
radiance  that  beams  forth  when  Justice  is  trans- 


68 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


figured  into  Love ;  the  palpable  and  direct  ap¬ 
plications  of  these  great  principles,  and  the  ob¬ 
servance  of  those  legislative  enactments,  and 
conventional  rules,  which  tend  to  secure  the  gen¬ 
eral  peace  and  prosperity :  such  are  the  obliga¬ 
tions  which  social  morality  lays  upon  the  citi¬ 
zen,  the  man  of  business,  the  philanthropist,  and 
the  friend.  Its  rewards  are  as  generous  as  its 
retribution  is  terrible.  Respectability,  commer¬ 
cial  credit,  honour,  the  courtesies  of  life,  sympa¬ 
thy  in  misfortune,  kindness  from  those  we  love. 
Each  moralist  reaps  a  larger  share  of  happiness 
than  he  individually  gives.  Each  heart  and  life 
in  a  community,  being  like  a  burnished  reflector, 
which,  having  its  proper  position  and  polish, 
odves  its  light  to  the  common  stock,  but  gathers 
a  larger  radiance  from  every  other ;  and  which, 
being  displaced  and  tarnished,  gives  but  little, 
and  gathers  less.  The  transgressor  lives  in  a 
dark  atmosphere  of  legal  penalty  and  commer¬ 
cial  distrust,  of  friendlessness  and  shame. 

There  is  also  a  domestic  morality — of  which 
we  speak  separately,  because  we  find  it,  more 
than  anv  other,  exercised  without  reference  to 

e/  ' 

other  duties.  Conjugal  fidelity,  parental  ten¬ 
derness,  filial  reverence  and  affection,  and  fra¬ 
ternal  love— how  human  nature  has  felt  their 


TEMPORAL  REWARDS  OF  MORALITY. 


69 


beauty  and  their  sanctity,  even  where  religion 
has  not  vet  thrown  over  them  her  holier  loveli- 

c / 

ness  !  And  they  have  their  reward.  Amid  the 
sheltering  care  of  the  domestic  circle,  a  sacred 

o  J 

joy  springs  up,  like  a  pure  spring  beneath  the 
clustering  palm-trees,  an  oasis  green  and  cheer¬ 
ful,  a  retreat  and  compensation,  amid  all  the  heat 
and  conflict  of  surrounding  deserts.  The  music 
of  happy  voices  encircling  our  firesides  and  our 
tables — the  smile  of  greeting — the  sympathy  in 
sorrow — the  nameless  little  kindnesses  that  spar¬ 
kle  off  from  the  altar  of  family  affection — the  un- 
wearied  watching  of  the  sick  chamber — and  the 
soft  arm  of  latest  devotion,  which  soothes  and  sus¬ 
tains  us,  and  aids  us  to  lean  securely  upon  the  rod 
and  the  staff  which  now  alone  can  comfort  us 
through  the  shadow :  all  these  are  but  the  respon¬ 
sive  blessings  to  that  love,  and  care,  and  gentle¬ 
ness,  which  we  have  shown  our  households — the 
natural  reward  of  a  true  domestic  morality. 

Once  more :  we  may  speak  of  a  morality  of 
the  passions,  apart  from  actual  intercourse  and 
observation  by  others.  It  is  a  Scriptural  duty  to 
rule  our  own  spirits,  to  cultivate  the  generous 
sentiments,  to  repress  the  malevolent  impulses, 
Hnd  to  check  even  the  necessary  instincts  of  re- 
nentment  and  justice  within  due  moderation. 


70 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


[Now,  apart  from  the  fact  that  in  a  well-regu¬ 
lated  social  state,  the  gratification  of  the  vindic¬ 
tive  passions  is  most  commonly  debarred,  and 
the  evil  affection  suffers  the  pang  of  disappoint¬ 
ment,  it  has  been  clearly  shown  that  as  each 
generous  and  noble  impulse,  whether  it  shall 
succeed  or  not  in  its  aims,  has  in  itself  a  sweet¬ 
ness  like  the  glow  of  a  healthful  frame,  so  the 
malignant  passions,  however  they  may  be  grati¬ 
fied,  have  a  constitutional  misery,  as  a  frenzied 
drunkard  grasps  the  cup  amid  the  tortures  of  his 
delirium.  “  Anger,  wrath,  malice,  envy,”  like 
vipers  nestling  in  the  bosom,  sting  the  breast 
that  cherishes  them,  however  shut  in  from  out¬ 
ward  victims.  And,  on  the  other  hand,  there  is 
no  loftier  consciousness  vouchsafed  to  the  moral¬ 
ist,  than  to  feel  his  mastery  of  himself — that  his 
soul  is  not  like  a  dismantled  bark,  borne  away 
by  every  wind  and  current,  but  has  in  itself  a 
controlling  power,  and,  by  an  internal  force, 
breasts  them  at  its  will. 

[Yow  we  have  glanced  thus  hastily  at  these 
several  moralities,  not  to  see  what  they  were  in 
themselves,  but  to  call  attention  to  the  fact  of 
their  independence  of  each  other ;  and  that,  exist¬ 
ing  thus  separately,  no  one  can  be  inferred  from 
the  existence  of  the  other.  You  cannot  judge 


TEMPORAL  REWARDS  OF  MORALITY. 


71 


the  social  character  from  business  habits,  nor  the 
intellectual  culture  from  the  comparative  physical 
health,  nor  domestic  virtue  from  public  amenity. 
The  banker  who  never  yet  failed  to  discharge 
his  obligations,  even  when  financial  ruin  threat- 
ened,  and  all  around  were  faithless,  may  go  home 
to  a  wife,  whose  heart  his  coldness  has  broken, 
and  to  children,  who,  lost  to  all  reverence,  regard 
his  life  only  as  the  obstacle  to  their  enjoyment 
of  his  fortune.  The  most  amiable  and.  loving  of 
parents,  may  have  no  integrity  nor  credit.  In 
some  cases,  and  to  some  extent,  the  moralities 
may  be  necessary  to  each  other,  and  so  be  in- 
volved ;  as  when  some  physical  laws  may  be  ob¬ 
served,  to  secure  mental  vigour,  or  when  public 
moralities  are  observed  through  love  and  con¬ 
sideration  for  those  at  home.  But  we  shall  be 
safe  in  laying  down  the  general  principle,  that 
these  moralities  are  independent,  and  therefore 
the  existence  of  one  cannot  be  argued  from  the 
presence  of  another ;  that,  at  all  events,  the 
higher  cannot  be  inferred  from  the  presence  of 
the  lower  moralities ;  and  that,  as  they  may  and 
do  occur  separately,  their  existence  all  together 
cannot  argue  any  connexion  of  principle. 

And,  as  these  moralities  are  distinct,  so  are 
their  rewards  separate.  Each  bears  its  own  fruit, 


72 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


and  eacli  fruit  crowns  its  own  tree.  The  reward 
of  domestic  morality  is  no  evidence  of  public 
esteem  and  confidence.  So  far  is  physical  tem¬ 
perance,  and  its  results,  from  betokening  social 
morality,  that  the  robust  frame  thus  produced 
may  only  call  for  heavier  manacles,  and  a 
stronger  gibbet.  The  rewards  of  all  the  lower 
excellences,  therefore,  cannot  argue  the  exist¬ 
ence,  nor  the  reward,  of  the  highest.  It  is  as 
though  each  virtue  stood  upon  a  separate  pedes¬ 
tal,  and  was  crowned  with  a  separate  wreath. 
All  but  one  may  stand  erect,  and  their  crown 
witness  their  approval  by  the  Jud^e :  vet  neither 
these  perfect  statues,  nor  their  crowns,  prove 
that  the  noblest  of  them  all  may  not  lie  beside 
them,  prostrate  and  crownless  in  the  dust. 

How,  in  view  of  these  facts,  may  we  not  say, 
that  if  there  should  be  added  a  new  department 
of  our  being,  or  a  new  circle  of  relationship 
should  gather  around  us,  higher  than  any  yet 
mentioned,  so  that  there  would  be  a  new  moral¬ 
ity,  the  same  rules  would  hold  ?  Whether  it  in 
any  way  involved  the  lower  moralities  or  not, 
they  would  not  prove  its  existence,  nor  would 
their  reward  prove  its  reward.  Just  as  all  but 
one  of  the  common  moralities  cannot  imply  that 
highest  virtue  which  remains,  so  all  earthly  mo- 


TEMPORAL  REWARDS  OF  MORALITY. 


73 


ralities  would  not  prove  the  existence  of  the 
added  excellence  and  duties,  nor  all  earthly 
hlessino’s  guarantee  the  new  reward. 

Xow,  we  aver  that  there  is  such  a  distinct  and 
loftier  morality,  with  its  distinct  reward.  The 
soul  has  relations  to  a  God,  as  personal  in  being, 
as  definite  in  his  attributes,  as  any  finite  soul ; 
and  the  duties  due  to  him  are  as  palpable  as 
those  of  any  earthlv  relationship.  It  needs  no 
argument  to  prove  the  profusion  and  exuberance 
of  his  bestowments,  the  ceaselessness  and  mi¬ 
nuteness  of  his  services,  and  the  benevolence,  the 
compassion,  the  forbearance,  and  the  tenderness, 
of  the  opeat  heart  of  God ;  nor  need  we  dwell 

O  y 

upon  the  responsive  affection  and  services  which 
we  owe  to  him.  If  filial  affection  be  a  duty ;  if 
ingratitude  is  detestable ;  if  reverence  for  the 
good  be  incumbent  upon  all :  and  if  implicit 
obedience  to  law,  which,  with  far-seeing  wis¬ 
dom,  provides  for  the  common  welfare,  be  indis¬ 
pensable  to  true  morality ;  then  do  our  relations 
to  the  great  Father  of  all  spirits,  to  the  Bene¬ 
factor  who  makes  both  nature  and  human  gener- 
ositv  to  be  but  the  almoners  of  his  lamp  bounty, 
to  the  Holy  One  and  Just,  to  the  Lawgiver 
whose  unerring  wisdom  guides  his  perfect  love — 
then  do  our  relations  to  Him  call  for  as  ceaseless 


74 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


reverence,  and  love,  and  gratitude,  and  for  as 
ceaseless  embodiment  of  those  feelings  in  active 
service,  as  any  earthly  morality.  The  acknowl¬ 
edgment  of  our  felt  dependence  and  indebted¬ 
ness,  in  prayer  and  praise ;  the  careful  study  of 
revelation,  and  of  providential  openings,  as  inti¬ 
mations  of  His  command  or  wish ;  the  glad  con¬ 
secration  of  time,  and  thought,  to  the  filial  com¬ 
munion  of  spirit  with  Spirit;  and  the  minute 
watchfulness  over  all  that  may  meet  his  favour 
or  rebuke — these  constitute  a  distinct  moralitv. 
Those  classes  of  obligations  which  we  have  be¬ 
fore  discussed,  regard  the  soul  in  its  relations  to 
the  world,  or  to  itself  alone  :  this  regards  its  rela¬ 
tions  to  God.  Those  human  duties  may  seem  to 
be  demanded  by  conscience,  even  if  there  were 
no  God :  this  higher  morality,  in  all  its  essen¬ 
tial  elements  of  feeling  and  expression,  would 
abide,  in  imperious  obligation,  although  all  asso¬ 
ciated  existence  were  blotted  out,  and  but  one 
heart  was  left  alone  with  God  in  his  universe. 
Lower  duties  regard  man  in  his  relations  to  ma¬ 
terial,  visible,  and  changing  circumstances,  and 
may  be  called  the  temporal  morality :  this  re¬ 
gards  the  soul  in  its  relations  to  God  the  Spirit, 
and  to  the  spiritual  world,  and  may  be  termed 
the  spiritual  morality.  How,  its  observance  may 


TEMPORAL  REWARDS  OF  MORALITY. 


75 


require  tlie  observance  of  the  temporal,  even  as 
we  saw  physical  morality  to  be  practised  for  the 
sake  of  mental  vigour ;  but  as  the  physical  does 
not  prove  the  intellectual,  nor  the  social  the  do¬ 
mestic  virtues,  nor  all  but  the  highest  combined 
demonstrate  the  highest  of  the  temporal  morali¬ 
ties  to  exist ;  so  they  all,  and  much  less  a  few  of 
them,  cannot  demonstrate  the  presence  of  the 
distinct  and  superior  spiritual  morality. 

And  as  the  moralities  are  distinct,  so  are  their 
rewards.  The  earthly  bring  earthly  blessings ; 
the  spiritual,  a  spiritual  recompense.  So  far,  of 
course,  as  the  great  morality  implies  the  ob¬ 
servance  of  the  lower,  it  secures  their  natural 
results ;  but  its  own  peculiar  benefits  are  dis¬ 
tinct,  and  not  implied  by  them.  The  approving 
love  of  God,  the  sweet  manifestation  of  his 
presence,  his  strength  and  consolations,  the  con¬ 
scious  assimilation  to  his  character — the  fulness 
of  exceeding  great  and  precious  promises,  bring¬ 
ing  a  peace  that  passeth  understanding,  and  a 
love  that  passeth  knowledge — these  are  some  of 
those  spiritual  benefits  which  yield  the  highest 
happiness  of  which  human  nature  is  capable. 
Aow,  therefore,  as  all  other  moralities  in  no  way 
imply  this  loftier  excellence,  neither  do  their 
rewards  imply  the  guarantee  of  this  loftier 


76 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


recompense.  When  these  earthly  rewards,  and 
their  virtuous  acts,  and  the  relationships  which 
called  them  forth,  have  passed  away,  the  ques¬ 
tion  of  eternal  morality  and  eternal  rewards  will 
stand,  as  it  does  to-day,  alone — to  be  determined 
by  its  own  evidences. 

Thus  do  we  find  ourselves  led  by  this  hasty 
glance  at  the  common  morality  and  its  rewards, 
as  seen  everywhere  around  us,  to  the  conclusion, 

that  WHATEVER  THE  TEMPORAL  BLESSING  AND 
CURSE,  WHICH  ATTEND  HUMAN  ACTION  MAY  INDI¬ 
CATE,  IT  CERTAINLY  DOES  NOT  INDICATE  ANY  SUCH 
REGARD  FOR  THE  MORALIST  AS  SHALL  SECURE 
HIM  FROM  ETERNAL  PUNISHMENT  IN  THE  FUTURE 
WORLD. 

The  reader  may  doubt  whether  such  a  system 
of  recompense  can  at  all  indicate  God's  feeling 
toward  the  heart,  which  is  assuredly  the  same  iri 
itself,  however  daily  changes  of  time  and  place 
may  call  for  different  duties.  Before  a  man, 
whom  orphanage  or  other  circumstances  has 
left  without  a  home  for  many  years,  shall  find 
himself  in  domestic  relations,  is  not  his  heart 
the  same  as  when  the  gathering  circle  elicits  its 
expression?  When  a  man,  long  honoured  for 


TEMPORAL  REWARDS  OF  MORALITY. 


77 


business  integrity,  and  long  enj  oying  the  reward 
of  social  morality,  is  by  accident  or  disease  shut 

V  J  l J 

in  from  the  exercise  of  these  virtues,  and  from 
their  rewards,  to  a  home  that  his  transgression 
of  domestic  morality  has  made  a  torment,  has 
that  one  accident  to  his  body  destroyed  all  God's 

t / 

favour  which  before  rewarded  him,  and  left  only 
the  displeasure  which  afflicts  him  \  Do  we  not 
feel,  that  too  often  the  laws  of  health  and  mental 
vigour,  and  social  morality  to  a  great-  extent,  are 
obeyed  merely  to  accomplish  some  vile  purpose  ; 
and  while  society  and  God  alike  execrate  the 
villain,  yet  the  due  recompense  still  has  attended 
each  obedience  to  law  ?  Must  we  not  denv  that 

c J 

the  temporal  blessing  is  a  sure  token  of  any 
divine  benediction  on  the  heart  ? 

The  mist  that  enshrouds  the  subject  may  dis¬ 
perse,  if  we  fairly  consider  that,  in  order  to  indi¬ 
cate  his  approval  of  virtue,  and  his  hatred  of 
vice,  it  is  not  needful  that  God  should  in  this 
life  let  his  rewards  and  penalities  correspond 
to  the  actual  inward  virtue  of  men.  The  con¬ 
viction  must  certainly  be  impressed  on  every 
subject  of  God's  moral  government,  that  nothing 
but  virtue  itself,  “  in  spirit  and  in  truth,’’  will 
satisfy  his  law ;  and  that,  in  the  end,  his  retribu¬ 
tions  will  have  regard  to  the  motive  and  inten- 


-78 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


tions  alone.  But  it  may  not  be  needful  that,  at 
present,  virtue  should  be  rewarded  as  virtue, 
and  vice  as  vice — -in  the  heart.  It  is  sufficient 
if  God  attach  blessings  to  those  acts  which  vir¬ 
tue  would  produce,  and  suffering  to  the  conduct 
which  would  be  the  natural  expression  of  a 
vicious  heart.  Man  will  soon  see  what  conduct 
brings  his  chastisements,  and  what  his  honours : 
conscience,  the  moral  intuition  of  our  nature, 
will  suggest  and  insist,  that  the  feelings  ought 
to  correspond  to  the  actions ;  that  the  heart 
should,  in  its  pure  activity,  be  the  source  whence 
the  life  flows  purely.  And  thus  it  was,  that 
while  the  evident  irregularity  and  inadequacy 
of  the  present  system  of  retributions,  to  meet 
individual  cases,  was  clearly  felt  by  the  ancient 
sages,  and  it  was  only  by  a  future  world  that 
they  could  equalize  the  desert  and  the  reward, 
yet  conscience  declared  the  necessity  of  virtue 
in  the  intention  and  affections  of  the  heart ;  and 
these  providential  laws  of  retributions  showed 
for  what  affections  in  their  action,  the  blessing 
was  originally  prepared.  Men  felt  that  so-called 
virtuous  action  was  rewarded,  because  the  vir¬ 
tuous  heart  was  presupposed  in  the  original 
plan.  Men  felt  that  it  might  yet  be,  that  a  re¬ 
generated  world  would  find  in  those  same  re- 


TEMPORAL  REWARDS  OF  MORALITY. 


79 


wards  the  proper  recompense  of  its  real  feelings. 
In  the  mean  while,  even  if  individual  justice  was 
postponed,  and  rewards  were  strangely  adminis¬ 
tered  to  classes  of  actions  instead  of  virtues ,  the 
moral  character  of  God?s  administration  was  re¬ 
vealed,  and  the  moral  consciousness  of  mankind 
was  aroused  and  directed. 

Let  us  pause,  and  raise  a  stone  to  mark  the 
progress  of  our  proposed  investigation,  and  take 
a  new  point  of  departure  for  the  remaining  stage 
of  the  argument.  We  have  shown  that,  accord- 
ing  to  the  plan  of  administering  rewards,  which 
is  observed  during  this  life,  no  temporal  bless- 
ings  afford  presumption  that  their  possessor  shall 
receive  any  reward  in  the  life  to  come.  We 
have  shown  that  these  temporal  rewards  are 
given  to  correct  conduct,  for  the  most  part,  with 
no  reference  to  the  inner  motive  of  action.  We 
see  that,  even  where  the  feeling  itself  produces 
a  reward,  the  feeling  and  its  reward  may  stand 
alone,  and  are  no  indication  of  that  pervading 
principle  of  virtue  which  alone  can  meet  divine 
favour.  We  have  pointed  out  the  fact  that  this 
imperfect  system  of  rewarding  action  instead  of 
motive  does,  nevertheless,  answer  the  purpose 
of  revealing  the  moral  character  of  God  and  his 


80 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


government,  and  the  moral  duties  and  prospects 
of  mankind. 

The  reader  will  feel,  then,  that  all  presump¬ 
tion,  which  the  preponderance  of  temporal  bless¬ 
ings  over  temporal  curses  might  suggest  against 
the  depravity  of  human  nature,  and  against  the 
absence  of  any  true  virtue  in  general  conduct, 
falls  to  the  ground,  when  it  is  considered  that 
the  question  of  the  existence  of  a  spiritual  prin¬ 
ciple  and  of  its  peculiar  reward,  is  entirely  inde¬ 
pendent  of  the  existence  of  the  common  morali¬ 
ties  and  their  earthly  consequences;  and  that  a 
sufficient  reason  for  thus  bestowing  blessings  on 
human  conduct  is  at  hand,  without  supposing 
them  to  imply  any  approbation  of  our  real 
character. 

W e  now  proceed  to  show  that  this  temporary 
system  of  rewarding  conduct  instead  of  virtue 
itself,  however  incredible  it  may  seem,  as  a  per¬ 
manent  principle  of  government,  is,  nevertheless, 
an  essential  part  of  the  only  method  conceivable, 
of  carrying  out  the  Plan  of  Kedemption. 


Cfj£  Ctrmpratite  ^ertituk  af  lawman 

Ctntktti. 


“Our  elegant  and  amusing  moralists  no  doubt  copiously 
describe  and  censure  the  follies  and  vices  of  mankind ;  but 
many  of  these,  they  maintain,  are  accidental  to  the  human 
character,  rather  than  a  disclosure  of  its  intrinsic  qualities. 
Others  do  indeed  spring  radically  from  the  nature:  but  they 
are  only  the  void  Treeds  of  a  virtuous  soil.  .  .  .  The  meastuv? 
of  virtue  in  the  world  vastly  exceeds  that  of  depravity;  me 
should  not  indulge  a  fanatical  rigour  in  our  judgments  of 
mankind:  nor  be  always  reverting  to  an  ideal  perfection." 

Posters  Essays. 


“For  whosoever  shall  keep  the  whole 
in  one  ■point,  he  is  guilty  of  ail." 


lam.  and  vet  offend 

w 


St.  -James. 


U 


Is 


thy  servant  a  dog.  that  he  should  do  this  thing'?'* 


XY. 

COMPARATIVE  RECTITUDE  OF  HUMAN  CONDUCT. 

That  perfect  human  life  upon  the  soil  of  Pales¬ 
tine,  two  thousand  years  ago !  How  it  trans¬ 
mitted  and  demonstrated  the  pure  lustre  of  the 
perfect  human  soul !  It  was  not  merely  that 
“never  man  spake  like  this  man.”  It  was  not 
that  “no  man  ever  did  the  miracles  which  this 
man  did.”  Those  who  have  neglected  his  pre¬ 
cepts,  and  disbelieved  his  miracles — Moslem  and 
Jew,  infidel  and  heresiarch — all  have  paid  hom¬ 
age  to  the  unearthly  beauty  and  dignity  of  the 
Scripture  portrait,  and.  confessed,  “Never  man 
lived  like  this  man.” 

Action  is  the  natural  embodiment  of  feeling, 
and  the  life  is  the  natural  exponent  of  the  heart. 
It  is  only  as  our  principles  and  affections  are 
called  into  action,  that  we  can  he  conscious  of 
them  ourselves ;  and  it  is  only  as  their  free  ex¬ 
pression  is  found  in  word  and  deed,  that  men 
can  examine  them.  God,  at  the  last,  shall  judge 
us,  according  to  the  deeds  done  in  the  body.  His 


84 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


righteous  judgment,  assigning  to  every  act  and 
word  its  significance  of  the  inward  motive,  shall 
mete  out  our  doom.  And  even  as  the  deeds  are 
being  wrought,  human  judgment,  in  its  imper¬ 
fection,  is  not  generally  at  loss.  Like  an  angelic 
messenger  who,  unseen,  has  come,  and  watches 
above  us,  but  at  our  invocation  is  revealed  to 
our  unsealed  vision,  so  the  heart,  that,  from  the 
seclusion  of  inactivity,  comes  into  the  world  of 
language  and  action,  is  concealed  no  longer.  The 
life  is  the  visible  soul. 

Look,  then,  upon  human  life,  and  say  what  is  its 
expression  !  Has  it  the  visage  of  a  spirit  utterly 
abandoned  to  evil  ?  Take  the  portrait  as  history 
has  daguerreotyped  it  at  each  successive  period, 
from  the  infancy  of  the  race  until  now;  and, 
making  all  allowance  for  deficiencies  of  knowl- 
edge  and  slow  mechanical  civilization,  has  the 
course  of  national  and  of  private  life  been  all 
deformity?  If  the  rewards  of  morality  have 
been  unevenly  distributed,  and  form  no  test  of 
character,  let  us  look  at  once  to  the  actions  them¬ 
selves.  Human  life,  covering  all  ages,  is  like  a 
great  dial,  upon  which  is  marked  the  working 
of  the  machinery  of  human  nature  beneath  it ; 
and  each  separate  life  is  like  the  second-hand, 
which,  partaking  of  the  general  movement, 


COMPARATIVE  RECTITUDE. 


85 


sweeps  around  a  smaller  circle.  If,  then,  with 
many  intermissions,  it  is  true,  some  backward 
impulses,  and  much  friction  at  times,  yet  still 
steadily,  and  with  increasing  regularity,  the 
hands  of  action  describe  that  circle  of  duty,  will 
it  not  show  that  the  machinery  within  is  more 
right  than  wrong,  and  will  move  better  as  time 
rolls  on  ?  If — and  we  concede  the  fact — if  na¬ 
tional  legislation  and  diplomacy,  with  all  its  fre¬ 
quent  recklessness  of  right,  has  many  instances 
of  dignified  respect  to  truth  and  virtue ;  and  if 
in  private  life  there  has  even  been — as  the  fact 
that  society  still  endures  bears  witness — a  preva¬ 
lence  of  honest  action,  and  accordance  with  the 
moral  law,  does  it  not  prove  that  the  machinery 
beneath  the  surface — the  human  nature  and  the 
single  heart — cannot  be  all  wrong,  and  indeed 
that  it  must  be  mainly  right,  and  progressing? 
If  crime  is  the  exception,  must  not  the  spirit  that 
produces  crime  be  the  exception  also? 

In  ordinary  clocks,  when  the  presence  of  the 
weight,  or  of  the  spring,  is  removed,  the  entire 
movement  is  arrested,  or  retarded ;  but  the  great 
clock  of  our  largest  city  has  an  arrangement  for 
securing  uninterrupted  motion ;  and  thus,  when 
in  winding  it  up  the  regular  force  is  removed, 
this  “retaining  power”  as  it  is  called,  supplies 


86 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


the  requisite  force.  A  spectator,  looking  at  the 
dial  at  any  one  moment,  and  seeing  the  move- 
ment  of  the  hands,  could  not  say  whether  the 
moving  power  was  the  regular  spring,  or  the 
temporary  force.  Now,  if  the  human  heart  has 
no  such  accessary  forces,  then  the  active  life  is  a 
sure  test  of  the  constancy  of  the  original  power, 
of  the  main-spring  of  holy  devotion  to  the  good. 
But  if  there  are  such  forces,  then  it  is  only  by 
estimating  how  strongly  and  how  often  they  avail 
without  the  main-spring,  that  we  may  be  sure 
of  the  unimpaired  power  of  chat  pure  motive. 

Now,  we  think  that  observation  of  our  own 
hearts,  and  of  the  hearts  of  others,  will  make  it 
clear,  that  there  are  such  secondary  motives 
brought  to  bear  upon  the  human  soul ;  and  that 
when  these  influences  are  taken  into  the  account, 
the  revelations  which  a  close  observation  of  hu¬ 
man  life  affords,  are  far  less  favourable  to  our  esti¬ 
mate  of  human  virtue,  than  at  first  we  thought. 
These  secondary  impulses  are  of  two  classes : 
first,  those  which  result  from  prudential  consid¬ 
erations,  or,  as  they  are  sometimes  termed,  selfish 
motives ;  and,  secondly,  those  impulses  which 
are  disinterested,  and  are  commonly  called  the 
natural  virtues,  but  which  are  not  religious  senti¬ 
ments.  In  this  essay  we  shall  consider,  princi- 


COMPARATIVE  RECTITITDE. 


87 


pally,  the  prudential  motives,  which  produce 
rectitude  of  conduct. 

Let  it  be  remembered  that  we  are  not  ques¬ 
tioning  the  existence  of  a  purer  motive,  nor  do 
we  now  investigate  its  nature,  but  we  only  seek 
to  know  its  strength.  From  the  scale  whose 
controlling  weight  sways  the  human  will,  we 
would  take  out,  one  by  one,  the  other  motives, 
and  leave  the  love  of  rectitude  to  exert  its  soli- 
tarv  force.  It  may  be  that  alone  it  has  power 

ts  v  A 


sufficient  to  regulate  society  and  home :  it  mav 

CJ  t J 

be  that  its  imperfection  needs  some  slight  assist¬ 


ance  :  it  may  be  that  the  accessaries  are  every¬ 
thing,  and  its  unaided  power  is  nothing.  "We 
shall  direct  the  reader’s  attention  to  these  lower 
motives :  of  their  force,  upon  his  own  will,  or 
upon  society,  let  him  judge. 


IS  or  would  we  be  understood  to  brand  the 
prudential  or  self-interested  motives,  appealing, 
as  they  generally  do,  to  our  fear  of  penalties, 
with  any  stigma  on  their  intrinsic  character.  To 
shrink  from  suffering  is  the  first,  the  last,  the 
constitutional  impulse  of  every  conscious  being, 
from  the  lowest  up  to  God.  The  power  of  fore¬ 
sight  and  of  the  avoidance  of  calamity,  is  one  of 
the  most  godlike  faculties  of  man.  The  creative 
love  which  spoke  into  being  the  tribes  of  the 


88 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


brute  creation,  with  consistent  benevolence  ren¬ 
ders  them  liable  to  but  few  ills,  and  by  a  blind 
instinct  urges  tbe  conduct  which  secures  the  pres¬ 
ent  or  the  future  good.  But  for  man,  richly  en¬ 
dowed  with  sensibilities  to  pain  or  bliss,  and  liable 
to  injury  from  a  thousand  evils,  God  has  made 
no  such  provision.  To  him  the  Creator,  in  be¬ 
stowing  his  image,  gave  a  portion  of  his  own 
omniscience,  enabling  him  at  once  to  dwell  by 
memory  in  the  past,  and  to  project  his  being 
through  the  future.  With  the  power  to  foresee 
and  avert  evil,  to  anticipate  and  secure  the  good, 
Jehovah  has  thrown  upon  man  the  responsibility 
of  his  fate  for  time  and  for  eternity.  It  is,  then, 
a  godlike  thing  to  forecast  the  future,  and  secure 
our  welfare  in  advance.  In  cases  where  no  other 
moral  principle  may  be  involved,  it  is  felt  to  be 
a  duty  of  itself,  that  we  should  secure  the  great¬ 
est  comfort  and  happiness  both  for  ourselves  and 
for  others.  Prudence  is  thus  a  religious  duty,  if 
it  were  not  a  natural  instinct.  And  whether  ca¬ 
lamity  results  from  the  natural  course  of  things, 
or  whether  God  shall  arbitrarilv  affix  sufferino’ 

e/  O 

to  certain  transgressions,  it  is  not  inconsistent 
with  manliness  to  estimate  it,  and  to  shrink  back. 
It  is  indeed  a  puerile  weakness,  to  sacrifice  great 
future  blessings  through  regard  to  a  lesser  pres- 


COMPARATIVE  RECTITUDE. 


89 


**nt  enjoyment.  It  is  shameful  to  give  way  to 
obstacles  and  pains  that  we  may  summon  our 
nobler  energies  to  overcome ;  but  it  is  never  felt 
degrading  for  men  to  strike  the  balance  of  evils, 
and  number  their  forces,  and  at  once  surrender 
to  a  power  which  cannot  be  questioned.  It  is 
indeed  degrading  to  surrender  to  any  power 
which  commands  us  to  sacrifice  rectitude ;  for, 
in  truth,  it  is  felt  that  no  such  power  can  last, 
and  the  right  will  yet  triumph  and  be  rewarded. 
But  when  no  moral  principle  is  at  stake,  pru¬ 
dence  has  an  honourable  sway.  If,  in  God’s 
economy,  religion  and  interest  attract  us  to  the 
same  conduct,  it  is  no  shame  for  a  man  to  feel 
both  the  religious  impulse  and  the  prudential 
motive :  if  he  have  no  religious  motive,  he  may 
yet  as  honourably  as  ever  feel  the  prudential.  If 
he  have  principle,  he  may  also  have  wisdom.  If 
he  is  not  a  saint,  it  is  honourable  not  to  be  a  fool. 
Therefore,  as  we  present  the  prudential  motives 
which  impel  to  rectitude  of  conduct,  whether 
thev  be  drawn  from  this  world  or  from  that  to 

t/ 

come,  let  no  one  feel  ashamed,  or  hesitate  to  ad¬ 
mit  their  full  influence  on  his  conduct.  Let  him 
feel  that  it  is  not  beneath  him  to  consult  his  best 
interests,  whether  he  has  other  motives  to  recti¬ 
tude  or  not. 


90 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


To  render  our  discussion  more  simple  and  defi¬ 
nite,  we  may  leave  the  consideration  of  human 
life  and  character  in  the  general,  and  dwell  upon 
the  conduct  of  separate  individuals.  The  moral¬ 
ist  may  admit  that  his  sense  of  innocence  may 
be  pure  insensibility  of  soul,  and  that  the  con¬ 
stant  rewards  of  morality  cannot  be  taken  as 
indicating  the  divine  approval ;  but  he  may  ap¬ 
peal  to  his  actions  themselves,  his  daily  life. 
Here,  he  may  say,  is  conformity  to  that  law  of 
God  which  is  the  very  expression  and  embodi¬ 
ment  of  moral  excellence.  Here  is  conformity, 
not  universal,  indeed,  in  every  slight  particular, 
but  strict  enough  in  all  important  specifications. 
Here  is  a  devotion  to  the  law  of  right,  which 
amply  compensates  its  forgetfulness  of  some 
minutiae,  by  the  deepest  abhorrence  of  more  im¬ 
portant  violations. 

The  primary  fallacy  of  this  appeal  lies  in  its 
mistaken  idea  of  the  standard  by  which  obedi¬ 
ence  is  to  be  tested,  or  a  confusion  of  the  two 
significations  of  the  term,  a The  Law/’  If  we 
consider  the  law  of  God  as  a  collection  of  distinct 
and  independent  commandments,  of  equal  or 
varied  obligation,  each  standing  on  a  separate 
foundation,  and  involving  its  own  obedience 
alone,  then  it  will  follow  that  obedience  to  the 


COMPARATIVE  RECTITUDE. 


91 


law  may  be  partial,  although  not  complete. 
Then  it  will  follow  that  compliance  with  a  ma¬ 
jority  of  its  injunctions  argues  a  proportionate 
devotion,  and  moral  character  may  be  reckoned 
arithmetically,  according  to  the  number  of  invio¬ 
late  or  broken  laws.  Such  is  the  view  of  many 
correct  moralists.  Seeming  to  themselves  to 
keep  all  but  a  few  commandments,  they  con¬ 
clude  that  their  acceptability  with  God  must  be 
proportionate ;  and  while  claiming  no  perfection, 
they  feel  that  the  preponderance  of  good  in  the 
heart  and  life  is  so  great,  that  he  can  but  forgive 
the  deficiencies,  and  reward  the  obedience. 

But,  in  truth,  there  is  but  one  law, — -“Thou 
shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart 
and  as  God  is  the  very  embodiment  and  personi¬ 
fication  of  holiness,  this  command  is,  “Thou 
shalt  love  the  Holy  One  and  Holiness  with  all 
thy  heart.”  This  is  the  one  commandment,  and 
all  others  are  only  distinct  applications  of  this 
one  rule  to  the  varied  circumstances  of  outward 
life.  This  law  is  like  a  general  direction  as  to 
the  path  of  life  ;  and  the  commandments  are 
like  attendants,  stationed  along  the  path,  at  the 
cross-roads  of  temptation,  saying,  “If  you  step 
aside  here  into  theft,  or  there  into  lying,  you 
will  break  the  law.”  But  step  off  where  you 


92 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


will,  tlie  law  is  broken.  The  law  is  the  compre¬ 
hensive  warning, — “Thou  shalt  not  strike  thy 
ship  upon  the  coast  of  sin and  the  command¬ 
ments  are  like  beacons  lit  up  on  the  more 
prominent  headlands  ;  and  strike  beneath  any 
one  of  them,  and  you  break  the  law  completely. 
You  have  struck  the  beach  and  are  wrecked,  as 
surely  as  though  you  had  dashed  in  elsewhere. 
Your  own  convenience,  or  the  natural  repulsive¬ 
ness  of  some  sections  of  the  beach,  may  have 
led  yon  to  shrink  more  from  some  points  than 
from  others — but  von  have  invaded  the  coast, 
and  broken  the  one  law.  It  is  evident  that  the 
authority  of  your  master  had  not  force  to  keep 
you  back;  and  had  no  other  motives  entered, 
yon  would  as  soon  have  dashed  on  any  other 
rock,  so  far  as  God’s  will  was  concerned.  Had 
the  shore  been  equally  inviting,  and  the  roar  of 
the  breakers  equally  subdued,  and  the  reef  as 
well  concealed,  the  shore  would  have  witnessed 
your  recklessness  of  law  at  any  or  every  point. 
What  is  demanded  is,  a  right  action  from  a  right 
motive.  That  same  right  motive  which  rejects 
one  sin  would  reject  all  other  known  trail sgres 
sions  of  the  divine  command. 

Consider,  for  instance,  that  prudential  con¬ 
sideration  produced  by  the  restraints  of  human 


COMPARATIVE  RECTITUDE. 


93 


legislation.  The  idea  of  human  law  is  not  to 
give  to  crime  its  just  desert.  The  actual  desert 
and  htness  of  punishment  may  lie  at  the  basis 
of  its  inflictions,  and  make  them  just;  but  the 
object  of  human  legislation  is,  to  affix  to  trans¬ 
gression  just  so  much  of  the  penalty  deserved 
as  may  make  crime  inexpedient.  Thus  the  thief 
must  lose  more  than  his  booty,  and  the  murderer 
more  than  the  gratification  of  his  revenge  or 
passion.  Through  all  the  long  and  intricate  cal¬ 
culations  of  covetousness,  and  malice,  and  lust, 
wherever  there  is  a  term  of  seeming  advantage, 
law  affixes  a  negative  quantity  of  larger  value, — 
an  evil  increasing  with  the  tempting  advan¬ 
tage, — so  that  the  result  of  all  combinations  shall 
be  worse  than  zero.  The  criminal  code,  incom¬ 
petent  to  judge  the  heart,  but  compelled  con- 

tinuallv  to  devise  new  snares  to  catch  the  Pro- 
«/ 

tean  forms  of  vice,  is  an  ever  fresh  witness  of 
the  inadequacy  of  better  motives  to  virtue.  We 
concede  freely  that  such  criminal  laws  do  not 
presuppose  that  all  the  community  need  their 
restraint,  but  only  that  some  do  need  it.  How 
many  do  require  the  check  of  human  law  and 
penalty,  is  a  question  for  close  observation.  For 
the  present,  we  only  ask  the  thoughtful  reader 
how  far  he  would  dare  to  trust  society  at  large 


94 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


with  his  life,  his  fortune,  and  his  sacred  honour, 
if  all  penal  laws  were  abolished  at  a  stroke? 
Yfi e  go  further,  and  ask  the  calm  and  serious 
thinker,  how  far  and  how  long  he  dare  to  trust 
himself  ? 

But  within  the  range  of  human  actions  lie 
many  over  which  the  law  lias  no  jurisdiction, 
and  which  cannot  be  specified  in  statutes.  Yet 
are  these  actions  influenced  by  a  motive  more 
powerful  than  physical  suffering  or  imprison¬ 
ment.  This  motive  it  is  which  lends  even  to  the 
common  law  and  its  penalities  their  most  fearful 
sanction.  That  sanction  is  found  in  the  unwrit¬ 
ten  law,  and  the  informal  sentence,  of  public 
opinion.  That  tribunal,  bound  by  no  form  of 
the  letter,  beguiled  by  no  legal  fictions,  intrudes 
into  haunts  which  fear  no  statutes,  and  condemns 
vices,  and  improprieties,  and  new  forms  of  ag¬ 
gression,  with  scorn,  with  exclusion  from  social 
privileges,  and  depression  from  business  facili¬ 
ties.  Much  of  the  penalty  of  social  reprobation 
is  not  the  rebuke  of  abstract  evil,  but  merely  a 
combination  against  conduct  injurious  to  the 
general  interests  of  society,  and  adjudged  on 
that  ground.  Yow  then,  take  away  the  restraint 
of  law  and  the  value  of  reputation,  together ; 
place  a  poor  human  soul  where  crime  has  no 


COMPARATIVE  RECTITUDE. 


95 


punishment,  and  where  all  are  compelled  to  ap¬ 
plaud  or  extenuate  his  vices,  and  how  long  will 
you  trust  his  integrity,  chastity,  or  benevolence, 
amid  temptation?  Why  is  history  a  catalogue 
of  great  crimes,  except  that  it  records  the  actions 
of  courts  and  camps,  above  the  reach  of  censure 
or  correction?  Why  is  Wealth  proverbially  a 
reveller  and  Power  a  tyrant,  but  that  the  one 
can  buy  and  the  other  seize  impunity?  Why 
is  a  foreign  tour,  as  a  pilgrimage  to  the  Holy 
Land  was  said  to  be  in  other  days,  the  severest 
test  of  virtue  to  the  unrestrained  wanderer  ?  How 
many  fall  abroad,  who  stand  intact  at  home ! 

But  we  admit,  further,  that  in  every  experience 
there  are  instances  of  virtuous  action  not  to  be 
explained  by  any  such  inferences.  Secret,  or 
known  only  to  those  whose  interest  will  secure 
silence  and  collusion,  many  an  offence  might  be 
committed,  and  many  an  evil  purpose  cherished, 
which  is  rejected  even  at  much  sacrifice  of  nat¬ 
ural  feeling.  There  is  even  a  serious  culture  of 
correct  life  and  sentiment  which  owns  no  fear 
of  man.  Is  there  never  a  slavish  fear  of  Go:l, 
and  of  future  retribution  ?  Is  there,  indeed,  not 
a  reverence  for  the  law  of  purity,  but  a  dread  of 
its  penalty?  This  principle  of  action  is  simply 
an  extension  of  common  prudence  into  the  future 


96 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


world.  Apart  from  the  influence  of  Christianity, 

*  it  brings  a  motive  to  almost  every  heart.  But 
Christianity,  while  it  seeks  to  introduce  the  one 
pure  motive,  has  lent  an  added  power  to  all  the 
other  motives.  It  has  given  to  law  its  impartiality 
and  steadfastness.  It  has  created  a  public  senti¬ 
ment  around  the  Church,  which  rebukes  vice  with 
an  energy  and  a  discrimination  before  unknown. 
And  it  quickens  the  natural  apprehension  of  con¬ 
science  into  a  fearful  looking-for  of  fiery  indigna¬ 
tion.  In  a  truly  Christian  community,  this  con¬ 
sciousness  that  the  whole  future  destiny  is  in  abey¬ 
ance,  and  all  is  to  be  lost  or  won  by  this  life,  pene¬ 
trates  every  heart,  and,  sometimes  more  vivid, 
sometimes  less,  whispers  in  privacy  and  earthly 
security,  of  the  coming  doom.  But  this  desire  to 
avert  future  calamity,  wise  and  blameless  as  we 
saw  it  to  be  in  itself,  is,  after  all,  but  the  dread  of 
retribution.  It  is  only  the  fear  of  God,  as  he 
happens  to  be  the  avenger.  TCereGod  inactive, 
and  Satan  in  the  ascendant,  and  the  threatener 
of  the  blow,  it  would  be  as  effective.  The  mo¬ 
tive  would  be  the  same;  only,  as  the  hand  that 
held  it  forth  was  changed,  it  would  be,  not  the 
fear  of  God,  but  the  fear  of  the  devil.  Yet  is 
this  thought  a  most  salutary  restraint  to  every 
heart.  In  times  of  sickness,  or  of  danger,  it  be- 


COMPARATIVE  RECTITUDE. 


97 


comes  almost  overpowering,  withering  in  its 
deadly  blight  the  fairest  temptations  that  sur¬ 
round  us ;  and  when  health  and  safety  reassure 
the  heart,  it  falls  back  to  a  repressed,  but  con¬ 
stant  influence. 

hsow,  these  three  grand  appliances,  for  the 
repression,  severally,  of  flagrant  crimes,  and 
minor  transgressions,  and  private  sins,  operate 
upon  the  one  principle,  before  explained,  of 
making  vice  unprofitable  or  impossible.  If 
they  cannot  remove  the  fruit  that  tempts  us, 
they  try  to  turn  its  juices  into  bitterness,  or 
hedge  it  safe  in  thorns.  And  here  a  most  sin- 
gular  phenomenon  of  consciousness  occurs.  As 
it  is  a  law  of  volition  that  we  cannot  will  to  per¬ 
form  what  we  know  to  be  impossible,  so  the  heart 
seldom  yearns  with  much  eagerness  for  new  in- 
diligences,  beyond  its  possible  reach ;  and  how¬ 
ever  it  may  crave  a  pleasure,  it  identifies  the 
thing  with  the  aloes  in  which  it  is  steeped,  and 
loathes  its  very  sight.  These  considerations 
have  made  many  vices  seem  to  us,  amid  laws 
and  a  Christianized  social  opinion,  utterly  out 
of  the  question ;  and  as  we  neither  taste  of  the 
evil  ourselves,  nor  see  others  do  it,  we  grow  up 
in  thoughtlessness  and  indifference,  or  with  aver¬ 
sion  to  these  bitter  sins.  TCe  seem  to  feel  no 


98 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


need  of  legislation  to  restrain  ns ;  we  glory  in 
our  spontaneous  superiority  to  a  gross  abomina¬ 
tion.  The  beastly  passions  of  the  soul,  hemmed 
in  from  infancy  with  bars  of  stern  penalties, 
brush  meekly  along  their  cage,  and  take  their 
temperate  allowance  with  quiet  satisfaction. 
There  is  no  consciousness  of  the  prey  beyond  its 
bounds,  no  yearning  for  the  victim ;  and  even 
should  the  bars  be  removed,  the  sense  of  im¬ 
punity  might  not  at  once  be  realized.  But  once 
let  the  tigers  arouse  to  feel  their  liberty,  once  let 
them  taste  of  human  blood,  and  woe  to  the  weak¬ 
ness  or  the  innocence  which  invites  the  spring 
of  those  infuriated  passions  ! 

There  are  several  motives  of  another  charac¬ 
ter,  which  are  not  without  influence,  especially 
upon  those  who  are  least  sensitive  to  the  power 
of  fear.  There  is  a  pride  of  character,  which 
must  feed  its  arrogant  complacency  from  some 
source.  It  may  not  dwell  on  equipage,  or  per¬ 
sonal  beauty,  or  intellectual  power;  but  con¬ 
scious  of  the  involuntary  or  factitious  character  of 
such  honours,  it  exalts  the  value  of  moral  excel¬ 
lence,  and  glories  in  its  rectitude.  It  would  de¬ 
spise  a  moral  wrong,  and  a  foolish  thing,  on  one 
and  the  same  principle — they  are  beneath  it. 
There  is  a  pride  which  does  not  even  care  to 


COMPARATIVE  RECTITUDE. 


99 


have  its  superiority  acknowledged  by  others,  so 
long  as  it  feels  it  to  be  unquestionable ;  which 
exults  in  haughty  secrecy  over  its  elevation  in 
the  scale  of  beauty,  or  mind,  or  morals.  Some¬ 
times,  amid  all  its  contempt  for  others  less  en¬ 
dowed  with  any  of  these  accomplishments,  this 
self-complacency  imagines  itself  grateful  to  God 
for  its  morality,  as  it  does  for  its  high  birth,  or 
its  features.  It  thanks  God  that  it  is  not  as  other 
men  are :  and  the  man  maintains  his  outward  rec¬ 
titude,  not  from  a  lowly  and  affectionate  rever- 
,  ence  for  the  divine  will,  but  as  he  keeps  up  the 
rest  of  his  equipage. 

Or  perhaps  men  dream  that  they  can  claim,  of 
right,  the  approval  and  blessing  of  their  Maker, 
and  feel  his  respect  for  their  virtues  a  most  grate¬ 
ful  tribute,  as  they  do  the  homage  of  their  fel¬ 
low-men.  God’s  general  benefits  toward  them 
being  all  a  thing  of  course  and  merit,  his  further 
consideration  is  certainly  a  flattering  compliment. 
Their  failures  in  action  are  passed  lightly  over ; 
they  rej  ect  any  troublesome  insinuations  of  spir¬ 
itual  defects ;  and  they  find  a  satisfaction  in  the 
thought,  not  only  that  they  have  a  mansion  prom¬ 
ised  above,  but  that  heaven  is  theirs  i\\  fee-sim¬ 
ple — they  can  afford  it ; — in  short,  they  are  on 
independent  terms  with  God  and  man.  They 


100 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


mean,  and  trust,  to  be  under  as  few  obligations 
as  possible  to  either. 

Perhaps  no  one  case  can  exhibit  the  powerful 
and  conscious  operation  of  all  these  motives,  and 
the  unconsciousness  of  guilt  of  which  we  spoke. 
Imagine,  however,  that  such  a  pirate  as  history 
tells  us  ravaged  the  equatorial  seas  within  two 
centuries,  should  become  so  noted  and  detested, 
so  closely  pursued  by  the  multiplying  police  of 
the  ocean,  that  he  should  resolve  to  gather  up 
his  blood-bought  treasures,  and  spend  his  re¬ 
maining  life  amid  the  unsuspected  retreat  of  a 
civilized  and  Christian  nation.  Presence  of 
mind,  a  strong  self-control,  and  some  natural 
social  qualifications,  facilitate  the  enterprise. 
Respected  as  a  stranger  of  business  talent  and 
resources,  he  passes  on  quietly,  until  his  path  is 
crossed.  Upon  his  own  ship  he  would  have 
felled  the  intruder  to  the  deck,  however  just  the 
contradiction ;  but  he  is  in  a  land  of  courts,  and 
prisons,  and  gibbets,  and  the  murderous  purpose 
is  restrained — he  merely  hates.  Time  wTas  when 
every  lust  had  unbridled  indulgence ;  but  now 
the  restraints  of  a  moral  community  are  about 
him,  and,  beneath  the  eye  of  public  scrutiny,  his 
habits  are  conformed  to  the  general  standard. 
He  yields  to  custom  and  attends  the  sanctuary, 


COMPARATIVE  RECTITUDE. 


101 


until,  although,  his  secret  thoughts  once  knew  no 
restraint,  and  while  he  feels  secure  from  human 
justice,  he  trembles  beneath  the  messages  of 
God,  and  checks  the  private  whispers  and  rising's 
of  his  heart.  As  restraint  and  temperance  be¬ 
come  habitual  and  easier,  his  longings  for  for¬ 
bidden  revelry  or  revenge  grow  less  impatient, 
and  subside — lie  like  the  hungry  lion,  half-slum¬ 
bering,  half-unconscious,  waiting  for  its  prey. 
He  is  surprised  to  find  how  virtuous  he  has  be¬ 
come  ;  he  enj  oys  the  sense  of  present  rectitude, 
and  deems  himself  too  strong  ever  to  stoop  again 
to  low  appetite  and  crime.  Soon  his  complacent, 
soul  thinks  its  compliance  with  the  divine  law  so 
exact  that  God  can  claim  no  more ;  and  as  the 
past  is  past,  the  present  must  be  accepted  by 
Heaven.  But  now,  tell  me,  viewed  in  a  relig¬ 
ious  light,  has  his  character  changed  at  all  ?  Let 
him  be  recognised,  escape,  stand  again  in  secu¬ 
rity  upon  his  own  deck,  find  his  temptations  all 
around  him  without  their  penalties,  and  although 
some  thoughts  of  future  retribution  might  still 
haunt  him,  he  would  hurl  them  aside,  and  prove 
that  circumstances,  not  himself,  had  altered.  As 
for  the  love  of  God,  the  reverence  for  a  holy 
law — where  are  they  now?  where  were  they 
then? 


102 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


Such,  then,  are  some  of  the  inferior  motives 
which  combine  to  produce  the  outward  life,  and 
the  inward  restraint  of  morality.  Sum  them  up, 
and  they  are  Fear  and  Pride.  These  are  suffi¬ 
cient  to  account  for  virtuous  conduct  in  the  great 
majority  of  cases,  if  not  in  all;  and  therefore 
this  conduct  cannot  demonstrate  the  presence  of 
any  motive  besides  them,  if  they  are  known  to 
operate.  Of  course  there  may  be  a  better  mo¬ 
tive.  A  man  may  foresee  a  rich  reward,  who 
would  have  done  duty  as  promptly  if  unre¬ 
warded.  But  the  existence  of  this  better  im¬ 
pulse  cannot  be  proved  by  the  mere  fact  of  a 
good  action.  It  must,  in  the  first  place,  be  a 
matter  of  consciousness  to  the  individual  alone. 
Others,  if  they  see  duty  rigidly  done,  in  those 
emergencies  when  all  these  motives  fail,  or  are 
turned  to  favour  the  opposing  sin,  will  honour 
the  integrity  of  pure  principle.  But  if  wTe  find 
human  virtue  graduated  very  much  by  the  as¬ 
pect  of  secondary  consequences ;  if  we  learn  by 
observation  to  expect  that  principle  can  hardly 
stand  alone,  or  against  inferior  motives,  then  we 
may  conclude  that  the  good  deeds  are  not  at  all 
products  of  good  principle.  Let  the  fearful  ex¬ 
periment  be  tried,  of  the  successive  withdrawal 
of  all  restraint,  legal  or  social,  or  future,  and  all 


COiEPARATIVE  RECTITUDE. 


103 


the  force  of  pride,  and  who  is  there  who  would 
dare  to  dwell  in  that  community,  or  trust  his 
own  soul?  Take  away  the  conscious,  and  also 
the  unconscious  influence  of  those  motives,  and 
how  far  would  the  solitary  love  of  rectitude  avail 
without  them  ?  Must  we  not  tremble  to  feel  that 
the  great  secret  of  our  comparative  innocence 
lies  only  in  our  comparative  temptation  and  re¬ 
straint?  Let  the  latter  be  removed,  and  what 
precept  of  the  whole  law  would  be  safe  ? 

Perhaps,  however,  the  moralist  who  is  thus 
driven  in  upon  that  inward  sense  of  his  own 
feelings  which  is  the  very  citadel  of  his  confi- 
deuce,  may  honestly  say  that,  all  prudential  con¬ 
siderations  aside,  he  believes  that  in  his  heart, 
and  in  almost  every  heart,  there  is  a  deeper  re¬ 
pugnance  to  some  forms  of  sin  than  to  others. 
His  very  soul  shudders  at  the  thought  of  some 

t/  cD 

iniquities,  and  in  that  revulsion  from  those 
deeper  crimes  is  shown  a  comparative  strength 
of  virtue. 

Consider,  in  the  first  place,  how  prone  we  are 
to  estimate  the  evil  of  disobedience  by  its  con- 
sequences ;  and  to  hold  it  light  or  gross,  as  the 
results  are  good  or  evil.  The  child  who,  against 
rebukes,  throws  a  ball  the  fiftieth  time  and 


104 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


breaks  a  window,  is  punished,  although  not 
really  so  guilty  in  the  act,  after  evidence  of  pa¬ 
rental  falsehood,  as  when  he  threw  it  the  twen¬ 
tieth  time.  The  press  generally  denounced  the 
aggressions  of  England  upon  China  some  years 
since,  until  the  barriers  against  commerce  and 
Christianity  were  thrown  down,  and  then  the 
deed  seemed  sanctified.  Undoubtedly  the  ten¬ 
dency  of  sin  is,  to  destroy  and  curse ;  and  the 
deeper  the  sin,  the  deadlier  and  wider,  in  the 
full  result ,  will  the  curse  be  found.  But  the 
immediate  and  visible  results  of  any  one  act  of 
sin  do  not  indicate  the  final  sum  of  evil,  and 
therefore  cannot  measure  the  sin.  A  sin,  there¬ 
fore,  with  no  visible  consequences  at  all,  may 
stand  before  God  in  its  own  intrinsic  malignity. 
God  does  not  judge  human  judgment:  and  if 
my  lie,  of  no  immediate  injury  to  any  one,  is 
left  in  all  its  guilt,  even  though  God  calls  out 
from  it  in  the  future  great  glory  to  his  name, 
how  can  the  slightly  varying  results  which  regu¬ 
larly  follow  here,  alleviate  or  excuse  transgres¬ 
sion  ?  Such  was  the  estimate  of  the  rn-eat  Teacher. 

O 

Hate  is  murder ;  lust  is  adultery ;  and  “  he  that 
is  unjust  in  that  which  is  least,  is  unjust  also  in 
that  which  is  much.5’  Here  are  the  three  oreat 

O 

invasions  of  social  morality,  regarding  life,  eh  as- 


COMPARATIVE  RECTITUDE. 


105 


tity,  and  property,  resolved  into  principles  which 
are  declared  the  same,  although  the  visible  con¬ 
sequences  are  arrested.  Yet  how  many  deem 
the  distinction  very  clear,  and  seem  to  shrink 
from  the  grosser  forms  of  sin,  and,  therefore, 
claim  comparative  purity.  But  where  God  sees 
no  essential  difference,  there  can  be  none.  It 
follows,  therefore,  that  whatever  discrimination 
of  consequences,  seen  and  felt,  our  aversion  to 
any  sin  may  indicate,  that  aversion  does  not  indi¬ 
cate  any  difference  in  the  intrinsic  evil  of  trans¬ 
gressions,  and,  of  course,  cannot  show  any  com¬ 
parative  abhorrence  of  sin. 

And,  that  our  natural  repugnance  to  many 
sins  lies  not  in  any  sense  of  their  actually  deeper 
guilt,  may  appear  from  the  fact  that  this  repug¬ 
nance  varies  according  to  the  customs  of  differ- 
ent  lands,  and  the  prevalent  temptations  and 
consequent  familiarity  with  vices  in  various  com¬ 
munities  and  circles.  There  are  countries  where 
assassination  and  licentiousness  scarcely  awaken 
more  repulsion  in  the  accustomed  soul  than 
simple  theft  or  falsehood.  The  history  of  duel¬ 
ling  is  a  singular  illustration  of  the  power  of 
custom  and  familiarity  to  pervert  or  to  create 
repugnance  to  one  sin,  and  remove  it  all  from 
another. 


106 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


But  the  true  or  fundamental  ground  of  the 
discrimination  which  in  every  age  men  have 
made  between  various  crimes,  and  of  their  shrink¬ 
ing  from  some  vices  more  than  from  others,  lies 
in  the  fact  that  the  Creator,  having  anticipated 
our  residence  here  amid  this  present  constitu¬ 
tion  of  things,  has  implanted  an  instinct  of  self- 
preservation  which  warns  us  from  many  social 
errors,  which  are  rapidly  destructive,  by  an  im¬ 
pulse  as  strong  and  as  blind  as  that  which  guides 
the  mere  animal  creation,  without  any  reference 
at  all  to  the  moral  character  of  the  actions. 
This  is  the  groundwork  of  the  universal  feeling. 
Acting  upon  this  basis,  and  observing  the  differ¬ 
ent  practical  consequences  of  various  crimes, 
society  has  made  a  mutual  compact  for  self- 
preservation,  and  sealed  the  voice  of  nature  by 
the  graduated  sentences  of  the  law.  Thus  the 
crimes  which  are  naturally  the  most  abhorred, 
are  those  which  society  visits  most  severely. 
God  himself,  when  legislating  as  a  temporal  and 
national  sovereign,  availing  himself  of  all  tem¬ 
poral  sanctions  to  secure  temporal  morality, 
made  the  same  distinctions,  only  affixing  un¬ 
usual  penalties  to  some  few  vices  which  were 
peculiarly  hurtful  to  his  people  at  the  time.  Of 
necessity,  all  these  things  induce  a  very  strong 


COMPARATIVE  RECTITUDE. 


107 


aversion,  and  at  the  root,  a  constitutional  aver¬ 
sion  to  many  destructive  sins.  But  a  social  in¬ 
stinct  is  not  a  moral  perception  •  and  social  penal¬ 
ties  have  regard,  not  to  the  individual  guilt,  but 
to  the  general  expediency.  We  find  by  observa¬ 
tion,  that  the  identical  principle  which  we  loathe 
under  one  form,  under  another  form  is  cherished. 
If,  therefore,  sin  is  to  be  measured  by  the  heart’s 
relation  to  the  will  of  God,  as  such,  and  to  simple 
rectitude,  then  this  constitutional,  or  educational, 
or  prudential  aversion  to  a  comparatively  large 
number  of  crimes  argues  no  comparative  aver¬ 
sion  to  sin,  nor  any  comparative  purity  of  heart. 

This  remarkable  provision  for  the  existence  of 
society  is  further  illustrated  in  the  fact,  that  there 

t /  7 

are  some  vices  which  are  naturally  destructive, 
the  temptation  and  the  inclination  to  which  are, 
providentially,  excluded,  until  restraining  social 
influences  are  called  to  hold  the  vices  in  check. 
It  is  remarkable  that  chastity  and  temperance 
are,  ordinarily,  found  in  savage  life;  and  while 
there  are  no  social  restraints  upon  the  indul¬ 
gence  of  licentiousness  and  drunkenness,  the  dis¬ 
position  to  them  seems  to  be  held  in  abeyance. 
It  is  only  as  civilization  gradually  progresses,  and 
legislation  guards  against  the  consequences  of 
excess,  and  a  correct  public  opinion  forms  a 


108 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


check,  that  the  individual  can  invent  his  means 
of  indulgence,  or  awakes  to  his  long-unfelt  temp¬ 
tations  to  lewdness  or  intemperance.  The  wis¬ 
dom  of  this  provision  by  the  Euler  of  all  is  seen 
in  those  instances  where  nations,  nominallv  Chris- 
tian  —  for  only  to  those  nations  which  claim 
to  be  restrained  by  the  spirit  of  the  gospel  has 
God  trusted  the  communication  of  high  civiliza- 
tion  to  the  savage- — have  introduced  the  obvious 
and  easy  vices  of  their  civilization,  without  being 
able  at  the  same  time  to  introduce  its  restraints. 
The  savage  tribes  melt  away  like  snow  beneath 
that  glare  of  newly-roused  passion.  As  the  Cre¬ 
ator  thus  holds  some  temptations  in  abeyance, 
so  he  brings  in  a  deep  repugnance  to  check  the 
force  of  others.  As  the  unreasoning  horse,  with 
no  moral  perceptions,  and  although  he  never  yet 
has  witnessed  death  or  bloodshed,  snuffs  the  scent 
of  blood  or  slaughtered  flesh,  and  shrinks  back 
in  terror ;  so  at  all  times,  or  varying  according 
to  circumstances,  the  Governor  of  our  race  im¬ 
parts  a  repugnance  to  those  forms  of  vice  which 
would  destroy  at  once  the  existence  and  proba¬ 
tion  of  this  world  of  sinners. 

Thus,  let  the  reader  observe  that  while  we  take 
human  conduct  in  its  most  favourable  asDect.  vet 

x  «/ 


COMPARATIVE  RECTITUDE. 


109 


we  see  that  other  motives  besides  moral  principle 
tend  to  make  it  what  it  is.  W e  feel  howT  terribly 
the  common  life  of  man  would  change,  if  the 
temporal  reward  of  his  actions,  and  their  future 
penalties,  did  not  restrain  him,  and  keep  him 
even  from  being  aware  of  slumbering  passions. 
We  see  how  even  the  general  repugnance  to 
gross  forms  of  sin  proves,  not  a  comparative 
repugnance  to  sin  itself,  but  only  an  educational 
or  instinctive  aversion  to  those  forms,  implanted 
for  a  temporary  purpose.  W e  shall  endeavour 
in  our  next  essay  to  do  full  justice  to  those  amia¬ 
ble  and  dignified  impulses  of  the  heart,  which 
adorn  the  race,  and  which  certainly  are  not  at¬ 
tributable  to  any  phase  of  self-love.  We  pass 
from  the  prudential  motives  to  consider  the  nat¬ 
ural  virtues  of  humanity. 


“  And  here  the  first  thing  to  he  considered,  and  which  will 
at  once  remove  a  world  of  error,  is,  that  this  —  the  doctrine 
of  the  corrupt  and  sinful  nature  of  the  human  will  —  is  no 
tenet  first  introduced  or  proposed  by  Christianity,  and  which, 
should  a  man  see  reason  to  disclaim  the  authority  of  the  gos¬ 
pel,  would  no  longer  have  any  claim  on  his  attention.  It  is 
no  perplexity  that  a  man  may  get  rid  of  by  ceasing  to  be  a 
Christian,  and  which  has  no  existence  for  a  philosophic  deist. 
It  is  a  fact,  affirmed,  indeed,  in  the  Christian  Scriptures  alone 
with  the  force  and  frequency  proportioned  to  its  consummate 
importance  ;  but  a  fact  acknowledged  in  every  religion  that 
retains  the  least  glimmering  of  the  patriarchal  faith  in  a 
God  infinite,  yet  personal.” 


Coleridge.  Spiritual  Aphorisms. 


I 


Y. 

Cljf  Natural  Dirturs. 


THE  NATURAL  VIRTUES. 


There  are  times  of  depression  and  weariness  of  the 

frame,  or  of  the  heart,  when  the  brightest  scenes 
of  nature  grow  dim  to  our  vision,  and  assume 
the  sombre  shadow  of  the  spirit  within  us.  And 
then  again  hours  will  come,  when  the  unbur¬ 


dened  soul  looks  out  with  a  happier  glance,  and, 
like  an  evening  sun,  throws  its  own  radiance 
over  mountain,  and  sea,  and  desert,  until  the 
verv  barrenness  of  nature  stows  gorgeous  pe_ 

c  G  O  O 

neath  its  gaze.  So,  under  peculiar  personal  cir¬ 
cumstances,  we  look  out  upon  the  moral  world — 
upon  the  character,  and  principles,  and  senti¬ 
ments  of  mankind.  Sometimes,  with  sorrow 
and  indignation,  we  turn  awav  and  sav,  “All 
men  are  liars."  Sometimes,  with  a  full  heart, 
we  muse  upon  the  brighter  scenes  of  life,  and 
view  it  all  adorned  with  noble  thoughts,  and 
holy  aspirations,  and  godlike  deeds ;  and  we 
look  up  and  say,  “  Thou  hast  made  him  a  little 
lower  than  the  angels,  thou  hast  crowned  him 


114 


NATTTKAL  GOODNESS. 


with  glory  and  honour.”  Blit  when  the  passing 
emotion  is  over,  a  candid  observation  will  con¬ 
vince  us  that  either  view  is  extreme  and  unfair : 
not  that  the  moral  character  of  the  human  heart 
and  life  might  not  be  radiant  with  perfect  purity, 
or  black  with  unalleviated  putrefaction;  but  that 
neither  of  these  possible  extremes  is  realized  in 
the  actual  state  of  things  around  us.  Look  upon 
human  hearts,  not  poetically,  not  theologically, 
but  as  they  strike  you  in  every-day  life,' — in  busi¬ 
ness,  in  society,  or  at  their  homes, — -and  you  feel 
that  they  are  not  altogether  angelic ;  nor  yet  are 
they  utterly  fiendish.  T7e  do  not  mean  that  hu¬ 
man  nature  presents  one  level  mediocrity  of  vir¬ 
tue  or  vice ;  but  that,  scattered  through  commu¬ 
nities,  and  through  families,  nay,  often  in  the 
same  heart,  virtues  most  noble  and  graceful  are 
found  side  by  side  with  gross  vices  and  deficien¬ 
cies,  like  flowers  which  spring  up  together  with 
rank  weeds,  that  poison  the  very  air  around 
them. 

And  these  generous  impulses,  and  right  affec¬ 
tions,  are  truly  disinterested.  They  are  not  the 
subtle  and  disguised  promptings  of  self-love. 
After  all  the  influences  which  spring  from  re¬ 
gard  to  law,  or  reputation,  or  the  retributions  of 
time  and  eternity,  and  from  the  more  delicate 


NATURAL  VIRTUES. 


115 


and  latent  forces  of  pride,  are  taken  into  account, 
human  action,  and  personal  consciousness,  attest 
our  possession  of  spontaneous  and  independent 
yearnings  to  what  is  pure,  and  lovely,  and  of 
good  report.  And  this,  too,  independently  of 
religion,  if  religion  implies  any  prayer  and  an¬ 
swering  assistance  from  a  higher  power.  Jus¬ 
tice,  benevolence,  gratitude,  sympathy,  are  not 
poor  wanderers  from  heart  to  heart,  seeking  en¬ 
trance  and  finding  none.  They  do  not  wait  even 
for  religion  to  unbar  the  soul  and  let  them  in. 
Xever  vet  was  there  a  human  heart  whose  earli- 
est  and  growing  consciousness  did  not  recognise 
the  presence  of  one  or  all. 

Let  us  dwell  for  a  moment  upon  the  numerous 
institutions  for  the  relief  of  physical  or  mental 
suffering  which  adorn  our  cities,  and  with  hum¬ 
ble  architecture  grace  this  broad  country ;  and 
admitting  that  not  until  Christianity  plead  the 
cause  was  it  fully  appreciated,  yet  remember 
who  have  built  and  sustained  them,  generation 
after  generation.  Whose  unpaid  supervision 
holds  their  interests  in  trust?  Whose  hearts 
have  melted  beneath  the  appeal  of  the  advo¬ 
cate  that  pressed  their  claims?  Whose  generous 
hands  have,  year  by  year,  replenished  the  ex¬ 
hausted  treasuries  ?  Isot  the  Church-members 


116 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


alone ;  but  those  who,  seated  by  their  side,  have 
wept  with  then’  teal’s  and  given  with  then’  bene¬ 
factions.  hi  or  are  they  reached  through  the 
Church,  and  by  argumentation  different  from 
that  which  is  brought  to  bear  upon  it.  The  ap¬ 
peal  is  made,  and  it  is  answered,  directly,  in  vir¬ 
tue  of  the  common  sentiments  of  humanity. 

So  literature  bears  testimony  to  the  strength 
and  delicacy  of  these  principles,  independently 
of  religion.  Comparatively  few  of  the  poets,  or 
historians,  or  even  moralists  whose  works  form 
our  permanent  literature,  have  exhibited  an  ex¬ 
perience  which  would  bear  evangelical  criticism; 
and  vet  their  noble  sentiment,  and  generous  affec- 
tion,  and  high  appreciation  of  the  pure  and  the 
divine,  are  treasured  even  by  the  Church  as  a 
glorious  heritage ;  and  often  has  the  pulpit- 
pointed  its  invective  or  its  appeal  with  their  sen¬ 
tences,  and  the  congregation  breathed  its  thanks¬ 
giving  through  their  verse.  And  even  the  fearful 
insidiousness  with  which  the  depraved  novelist 
seduces  the  heart  by  pictures  of  gross  vice  half- 
veiled  in  the  drapery  of  generous  qualities,  only 
proves  his  own  ability  to  appreciate  the  good 
while  he  loves  the  evil;  proves  his  sense  of  the 
necessity  of  propitiating  the  public  sentiment 
which  cannot  bear  unalleviated  vice ;  and  proves 


NATURAL  VIRTUES. 


117 

that  such  union  of  qualities  most  dissimilar,  how¬ 
ever  unusual  in  the  precise  combination  of  the 
author,  is  not  infrequent  and  unnatural. 

But  we  need  not  look  abroad,  when  at  our 
very  firesides  these  virtues  dwell,  and  make  for 
us — a  home.  Here  we  can  mark  the  blending: 
of  those  contrasted  qualities  in  their  first  exhi¬ 
bition,  and  their  earliest  growth.  Here,  where 
as  yet  the  temptations  and  fearful  examples  of 
the  great  world  have  never  come;  and  where, 
on  the  other  hand,  no  thought  of  policy  or  shame 
conceals  the  spontaneous  thought, 

“  Heaven  lies  about  us  ia  our  infancy,” 

and  its  tones  and  its  pure  light  seem  echoed  in 
the  tones  of  affection  and  reflected  in  the  unsul¬ 
lied  countenance.  How  quick  and  clear  the  ap¬ 
prehension  of  truth,  and  right,  and  love !  Amid 
the  diversities  of  age,  and  temperament,  and 
constitution,  that  mark  the  group  which  gathers 
at  the  parental  board,  the  common  affection  that 
binds  them  to  each  other  beams  forth  in  a  thou¬ 
sand  acts  of  childish  virtue,  recorded  only  in  a 
parent’s  heart,  or  remembered  when  one  link  of 
the  golden  chain  is  broken  by  death.  Truth 
that  endures  the  penalty  rather  than  deny  the 
wayward  disobedience,  and  generous  self-denial 


118 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


that  yields  whole  fortunes  of  infantile  wealth  to 
soothe  a  weeping  playmate,  and  frank  amend¬ 
ment  made  for  passionate  vehemence  and  free 
forgiveness  reconciling  the  unkind  invader  of 
young  prerogatives.  How  much  has  each  to 
call  out  our  admiration  and  our  love,  amid  his 
own  peculiar  failings;  some  better  trait,  some 
lovelier  impulse,  some  generous  emotion,  that 
more  than  grace  of  form  or  beauty  of  feature 
wins  and  seals  the  affection  of  our  hearts. 

And  in  the  growth  of  years,  how  these  early 
traits  mature  and  strengthen ;  and  with  all  the 
passion,  and  recklessness,  and  irritability,  and 
wantonness  of  youth,  there  glows  a  noble  en¬ 
thusiasm,  a  generous  self-denial,  a  delicate  sen¬ 
sibility,  and  a  constant  affection.  And  there  are 
characters  in  whom  the  few  failings  of  childhood 
seem  to  vanish  before  the  clearer  recognition  of 
the  duties  of  life  and  the  beauty  of  virtue,  and 
the  pure  spirit,  clothed  with  a  form  and  expres¬ 
sion  that  is  a  fitting  shrine  for  such  a  soul, 
dazzles  with  angelic  loveliness,  or  in  a  lowlier 
vesture  shows  how 

“Nature  crescent  does  not  grow  in  bulk 
Of  thews  and  sinews  only ;  but  as  this  temple  waxes, 
The  inward  service  of  the  mind  and  soul 
Grows  wide  withal.” 


NATURAL  VIRTUES. 


119 


Even  although  each  may  have  deficiencies,  yet 
has  each  his  own  excellences  ;  and  in  later  years, 
amid  all  the  confirmed  evil,  and  habitual  and 
conventional  wrong,  the  false  sentiment,  and  the 
blunted  sensibility,  the  gloom  is  relieved  by 
many  an  instance  of  stern  integrity  in  business, 
of  firm  fidelity  in  friendship,  of  unexhausted  lib¬ 
erality,  and  of  the  amiability  and  devotion  which 
give  the  sweetness  and  the  sanctity  of  home. 

bTor  let  it  be  supposed,  that  to  any  peculiar 
development  of  civilization  or  religion,  these 
virtues  exclusively  belong.  Heathenism,  in  its 
classic  pages,  has  recorded  illustrations  of  all 
that  is  noble  and  tender  in  human  thought  and 
feeling,  and  now  points  us  to  the  millions  that 
people  her  vast  continents  for  examples  of  the 
same  universal  traits.  It  is  not  civilization  that 
has  gradually  grafted  them  into  the  soul ;  for 
while  barbarism  has  vices  peculiarly  its  own, 
and  repulsive  in  their  nakedness,  there  are  other 
virtues  which  stand  with  austere  dignity  amid 
the  simplicity  of  savage  life.  Unawed  by  the 
prevailing  corruption, — stemming  the  tide  of 
social  degradation, — history  displays  a  chastity 
amid,  voluptuousness,  a  clemency  in  the  midst 
of  cruelty,  a  justice  that  silently  rebuked  the 
wantonness  of  impunity,  and  friendship  stronger 


120 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


than  death.  Ignorance  could  not  blind  them ; 
slavery  could  not  fetter  them ;  poverty  could 
not  starve  them.  In  the  deepest  recesses  of  the 
vilest  hearts  that  men  have  execrated  as  they 
crushed  them  from  off  the  earth  like  vipers, 
there  has  yet  lingered  some  one  relic  of  early 
virtue  that  would  not  die  ;  as  if  to  prove  that  in 
human  nature,  in  its  utmost  desolation,  the  very 
rocks  and  sand  are  not  without  some  bubbling 
spring,  some  struggling  blades  of  verdure,  though 
as  yet  the  desert  may  not  blossom  as  the  rose. 

How,  we  dwell  thus  upon  the  universality 
and  beauty  of  "these  natural  virtues,  because  in 
speaking  of  that  which  was  created  in  God's 
image,  however  it  may  have  fallen,  we  dare  not 
slander  it  by  reckless  invective  and  railing  accu¬ 
sation  ;  because  we  share  the  honour  and  the 
shame  of  the  common  nature,  and  every  stigma 
upon  the  one  great  family  recoils  upon  the 
shameless  heart  that  taunts  it ;  and  because,  by 
plain  truth,  we  would  disarm  the  indignant  re¬ 
buke  that  has  charged,  too  justly  and  too  often, 
an  orthodox  theology  with  ignoring  all  that  was 
good  in  humanity.  “  So,”  said  the  purest  and 
most  eloquent  champion  and  eulogist  of  natural 
virtue,  speaking  of  such  a  theology,  “it  exag¬ 
gerates  the  sins  of  men,  that  the  need  of  an  in- 


NATURAL  VIRTUES. 


121 


finite  atonement  may  be  maintained.  Some  of 
the  most  affecting  tokens  of  God’s  love,  within 
and  around  us,  are  obscured  by  this  gloomy 
theology.  The  glorious  faculties  of  the  soul ;  its 
high  aspirations  ;  its  sensibility  to  the  great  and 
good  in  character ;  its  sympathy  with  disinter¬ 
ested  and  suffering  virtue ;  its  benevolent  and 
religious  instincts ;  its  thirst  for  a  happiness  not 
found  on  earth  :  these  are  overlooked  and  thrown 
into  the  shade,  that  they  may  not  disturb  the 
persuasion  of  man’s  natural  corruption.  Inge¬ 
nuity  is  employed  to  disparage  what  is  interest¬ 
ing  in  the  human  character.  While  the  bursts 
of  passion  in  the  new-born  child  are  gravely 
urged  as  indications  of  a  native  rooted  cor¬ 
ruption,  its  bursts  of  affection,  its  sweet  smile, 
its  innocent  and  irrepressible  joy,  its  loveliness 
and  beauty,  are  not  listened  to,  though  they 
plead  more  eloquently  its  alliance  with  higher 
natures.  The  sacred  and  tender  affections  of 
home ;  the  unwearied  watchings  and  cheerful 
sacrifices  of  parents ;  the  reverential,  grateful 
assiduity  of  children,  smoothing  an  aged  father’s 
or  mother’s  descent  to  the  grave  ;  woman’s  love, 
stronger  than  death ;  the  friendship  of  brothers 
and  sisters ;  the  anxious  affection  which  tends 
around  the  bed  of  sickness;  the  subdued  voice 


122 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


which  breathes  comfort  into  the  mourners  heart ; 
all  the  endearing  offices  which  shed  a  serene 
light  through  our  dwellings  :  these  are  explained 
away,  by  the  thorough  advocates  of  this  system, 
so  as  to  include  no  real  virtue — so  as  to  consist 
with  a  natural  aversion  to  goodness.  Even  the 
higher  efforts  of  disinterested  benevolence,  and 
the  most  unaffected  expressions  of  piety,  if  not 
connected  with  the  true  faith,  are,  by  the  most 
rigid  disciples  of  the  doctrine  which  I  oppose, 
resolved  into  the  passion  for  distinction,  or  some 
other  working  of  c  unsanctined  nature.’ 

How  far  we  are  from  throwing  a  veil  over  any 
human  excellence,  and  how  freely  we  admit  the 
disinterestedness  of  these  natural  virtues,  everv 
page  has  witnessed.  We  are  now  discussing, 
not  those  moral  actions  which,  however  in  ac¬ 
cordance  with  the  law,  are  the  compulsory  ser¬ 
vices  of  a  fearful  spirit,  but  the  moral  virtues 
themselves,  recognised  and  prized  by  universal 
consent.  And  certainly  their  existence  is  a  fact 
to  be  accounted  for.  If  to  do  justly,  and  to  love' 
mercy,  and  discharge  the  duties  of  our  relations 
in  life  from  the  impulse  of  spontaneous  feeling, 
be  not  religion,  what  is  religion?  If  affections 
whose  presercdis  commended  as  obligatory,  and 

°  Charming. 


NATURAL  VIRTUES. 


123 


whose  absence  is  rebuked  as  evidence  of  deepest 
sin,  be  not  religions,  what  are  they  ?  What  rela¬ 
tion  do  they  bear  to  religions  principles ;  and 
why,  in  God’s  economy,  are  they  so  universal  and 
so  inwoven,  that  crime  and  despair  can  scarcely 
tear  them  from  our  hearts  ? 

The  ordinarv  and  most  obvious  method  of 

« / 

meeting  this  question,  and  that  which  Chalmers, 
in  his  Commercial  Discourses,  has  made  most 
prominent,  even  while  he  elsewhere  goes  into  a 
more  philosophical  criticism,  is,  to  bring  the 
claims  of  Jehovah  before  the  complacent  moral¬ 
ist,  and  bid  him  feel  that,  however  his  debt  to 
man  has  been  discharged,  he  is  bankrupt  toward 
God.  “The  way,  then,  to  assert  the  depravity 
of  man,  is  to  fasten  on  the  radical  element  of  de¬ 
pravity,  and  to  show  how  deeply  it  lies  incorpo¬ 
rated  with  his  moral  constitution.  It  is  not  bv 

»/ 

an  utterance  of  rash  and  sweeping  totality  to 
refuse  to  him  the  possession  of  what  is  kind  in 
sympathy,  or  of  what  is  dignified  in  principle — 
for  this  were  in  the  face  of  all  observation.  It 
is  to  charge  him  direct  with  his  utter  disloyalty 
to  God.  It  is  to  convict  him  of  treason  against 
the  Majesty  of  heaven.  It  is  to  press  home  upon 
him  the  impiety  of  not  caring  about  God.  It  is 
to  tell  him  that  the  hourly  and  habitual  language 


124 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


of  his  heart  is,  ‘  I  will  not  have  the  Being  who 
made  me  to  rule  over  me.5  It  is  to  go  to  the 
man  of  honour,  and  while  we  frankly  award  to 
him  that  his  pulse  heats  high  in  the  pride  of  in¬ 
tegrity — it  is  to  tell  him,  that  He  who  keeps  it  in 
living  play,  and  who  sustains  the  loftiness  of  its 
movements,  and  who,  in  one  moment  of  time, 
could  arrest  it  forever,  is  not  in  all  his  thoughts. 
It  is  to  go  to  the  man  of  soft  and  gentle  emo¬ 
tions,  and  while  we  gaze  in  tenderness  upon 
him — it  is  to  read  to  him  out  of  his  own  charac¬ 
ter,  how  the  exquisite  mechanism  of  feeling  may 
be  in  full  operation,  while  He  who  framed  it  is 
forgotten ;  while  He  who  poured  into  his  consti¬ 
tution  the  milk  of  human  kindness,  may  never 
be  adverted  to  with  one  single  sentiment  of  ven¬ 
eration,  or  one  single  purpose  of  obedience ;  while 
He  who  gave  him  his  gentler  nature,  who  clothed 
him  with  all  its  adornments,  and  in  virtue  of 
whose  appointment  it  is  that,  instead  of  an  odious 
and  revolting  monster,  he  is  the  much-loved  child 
of  sensibility,  may  be  utterly  disowned  by  him. 
In  a  word,  it  is  to  go  round  among  all  that  hu¬ 
manity  has  to  offer  in  the  shape  of  fair,  and 
amiable,  and  engaging,  and  to  prove  how  deeply 
humanity  has  revolted  against  that  Being  who 
has  done  so  much  to  beautify  and  exalt  her.  It 


NATURAL  VIRTUES. 


125 


is  to  prove  that  the  carnal  mind,  under  all  its 
varied  complexions  of  harshness,  or  of  delicacy, 
is  enmity  against  God.  It  is  to  prove  that,  let 
nature  be  as  rich  as  she  may  in  moral  accom¬ 
plishments,  and  let  the  most  favoured  of  her  sons 
realize  upon  his  own  person  the  finest  and  fullest 
assemblage  of  them — should  he,  at  the  moment 
of  leaving  this  theatre  of  display,  and  bursting 
loose  from  the  frame-work  of  mortality,  stand  in 
the  presence  of  his  Judge,  and  have  the  question 
put  to  him,  ‘What  hast  thou  done  unto  mef 
this  man  of  constitutional  virtue,  with  all  the 
salutations  he  got  upon  earth,  and  all  the  rever¬ 
ence  that  he  has  left  behind  him,  may,  naked  and 
defenceless  before  Him  who  sitteth  on  the  throne 
be  left  without  a  plea  and  without  an  argu¬ 
ment.”* 

How  there  is  a  weakness  and  incompleteness 
in  this  argument,  thus  brought  out  so  promi- 
nentlv  and  alone,  which  will  be  felt  where  it  is 
not  understood.  It  appears  to  make  religion  to 
be  merely  a  personal  obligation  to  God,  and  the 
guilt  of  irreligion  to  consist  only  in  the  personal 
insult  to  Jehovah,  and  its  penalties  to  be  merely 
the  vindictive  resentments  of  a  wounded  personal 

~  Commercial  Discourses,  Sermon  I. 


126 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


feeling.  It  seems  to  overlook  the  claims  of  that 
eternal  and  immutable  principle  of  rectitude, 
which  the  heart  may  acknowledge  to  pervade 
the  divine  nature  and  its  decrees,  but  which  is 
felt  to  have  existence,  not  by  virtue  of  his  decree 
alone,  but  in  its  own  absolute  authority  to  con¬ 
stitute  the  verv  sanction  of  the  Creator's  claims, 
and  to  leave  its  separate  obligation  upon  all  duties 
which  that  Creator  has  enjoined.  Our  duties 
of  holy  feeling  toward  God,  and  our  duties  of 
holy  feeling  toward  man,  may  seem  therefore  to 
be  only  different  expressions  of  the  same  great 
principle  of  purity  and  rectitude.  Either  the 
pure  feelings  toward  man,  or  the  pure  feelings 
toward  God,  would  seem  to  prove  the  presence 
of  that  one  holy  principle  which  is  the  root  of 
both.  It  may  be  questioned  how  a  heart  whose 
genuine  earthly  virtues  prove  its  devotion  to  the 
one  great  principle  of  duty  and  purity,  can  be 
destitute  of  all  right  devotion  toward  God. 

The  unreserved  praise  which  Chalmers  at 
times  accords  to  the  earthly  virtues  of  morality, 
while  he  only  charges  that  one  deficiency,  of 
omitting  the  worship  due  to  Heaven,  may  seem 
to  admit  a  converse  argument — a  plea,  that  the 
principle  of  rectitude  which  must  certainly  dwell 
in  the  heart  from  which  such  virtues  flow,  can- 


NATURAL  VIRTUES. 


127 


not  help  but  affect  us  rightly  toward  God.  If, 
therefore,  there  shall  be  found  a  sentiment  of 
reverence,  or  of  gratitude,  or  of  admiration,  to¬ 
ward  Jehovah,  in  a  heart  so  crowned  with  natu¬ 
ral  virtues,  albeit  with  no  direct  prayer  for  grace, 
then  that  sentiment  must  be  taken  as  the  satis¬ 
factory  manifestation  of  the  same  religious  prin¬ 
ciple  which  inspires  the  human  moralities ;  and 
anything  beyond  this  is  the  requirement  of  super¬ 
stition  or  fanaticism.  Everv  man  is  naturally 

fj  V 

and  truly  religious. 

“  There  is,  then,”  says  a  well-known  defender 
Z)f  the  claims  of  natural  goodness,  “  but  one  true 
principle  in  the  mind,  and  that  is  the  love  of  the 
true,  the  right,  the  holy.  There  is  but  one  char¬ 
acter  of  the  soul  to  which  God  has  given  his 
approbation,  and  with  which  he  has  connected 
the  certainty  of  happiness  here  and  hereafter. 
There  is  something  in  the  soul  which  is  made 
the  condition  of  its  salvation,  and  that  something 
is  one  thing,  though  it  has  many  forms.  It  is 
sometimes  called  grace  in  the  heart ;  sometimes 
holiness,  righteousness,  conformity  to  the  charac¬ 
ter  of  God ;  but  the  term  most  familiar  in  popu¬ 
lar  use  is  religion.  The  constant  question  is, 
when  a  man’s  spiritual  safety  or  well-being  is  the 
point  for  consideration,  when  he  is  going  to  die, 


128 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


and  men  would  know  wketlier  he  is  to  be  happy 
hereafter,  ‘  Has  he  got  religion  ?  or,  has  he  been 
a  religions  man?’  I  confess  I  do  not  like  this 
nse  of  the  term.  I  am  accustomed  to  consider 
religion  as  reverence  and  love  toward  God;  and 
to  consider  it,  therefore,  as  only  one  jpart  of  rec¬ 
titude  or  excellence.  But  you  know  that  it  com¬ 
monly  stands  for  the  whole  character  which  God 
requires  of  us.  How,  what  I  am  saying  is,  that 
this  character  is,  in  principle,  one  thing.  It  is, 
being  right ;  and  being  right  is  but  one  thing. 
It  has  many  forms,  but  only  one  essence.  It  may 
be  the  love  of  God ,  and  then  it  is  piety.  It  may 
be  the  love  of  men ,  and  then  it  is  philanthropy . 
But  the  love  cf  God,  and  the  love  of  man,  as 
bearing  his  image,  are  in  essence  the  same  thing. 
Or,  to  discriminate  with  regard  to  this  second 
table  of  the  law,  it  may  be  a  love  of  men’s  hap¬ 
piness,  and  then  it  is  the  very  image  of  God’s 
benevolence ;  or  it  may  be  the  love  of  holiness  in 
men — of  their  goodness,  justice,  truth,  virtue — • 
and  then  it  is  a  love  of  the  same  things  that  form, 
when  infinitely  exalted,  the  character  of  God. 
All  these  forms  of  excellence,  if  they  cannot  be 
resolved  into  one  principle,  are  certainly  parts 
of  one  great  consciousness,  the  consciousness  of 
right :  they  at  any  rate  have  the  strictest  alliance ; 


NATURAL  VIRTUES. 


129 


they  are  inseparably  bound  together  as  parts  of 
one  whole  ;  the  very  nature  of  true  excellence  in 
one  form ,  is  a  pledge  for  its  existence  in  every 
other  form 

Row  we  shall,  for  the  time  being,  avoid  the 
difficulty  of  an  appeal  to  those  personal  claims 
of  the  Creator,  which  may  either  be  but  slightly 
apprehended  by  the  reader,  or  which  his  natural 
sentiment  of  reverence  and  gratitude  may  seem 
to  him  to  satisfy;  and  we  shall  fall  back  upon 
the  consideration  of  that  underlying  principle  of 
love  to  holiness  and  rectitude  which  is  the  foun¬ 
dation  of  all  moral  affections,  both  to  God  and 
to  man.  Religion,  then,  using  the  word  in  its 
widest  and  popular  sense, — religion  is  the  love  of 
virtue,  for  its  own  sake — its  intrinsic  worth.  We 
need  not  pause  to  define  the  nature  of  virtue  :  — 
the  intuitive  sense  of  every  conscience  appre¬ 
hends  it.  But  we  remark  the  familiar  fact,  that 
the  love  of  a  truth  or  a  principle  is  something 
more  than  a  mere  sense  of  its  worth  and  loveli¬ 
ness.  It  is  a  yearning  to  see  it  ever  realized 
and  embodied  in  action,  and  a  painful  struggle 
against  its  absence  or  its  neglect.  And  so,  of 
course,  the  love  of  virtue  delights  only  in  its 

°  Dewey’s  Discourses.  Identity  of  Religion  with  Goodness. 
Italics  our  awn. 

i 

9 


130 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


presence  and  its  embodiment,  and  revolts  at  all 
which  contradicts  and  excludes  it. 

But  the  important  point  upon  which  we  con 
centrate  attention  is,  that  such  a  love  for  holi¬ 
ness,  such  a  taste  for  moral  rectitude,  will  be 
symmetrical  and  universal  in  its  attraction  to 
the  good.  The  musical  ear,  endowed  with  keen¬ 
est  sensibility  to  harmonv  of  sound,  is  not  satis- 
fled  with  the  accordances  of  one  bar  or  tune 
alone,  but  demands  it  in  every  air,  and  is  tor¬ 
tured  bv  the  least  discordance.  The  artist’s  eve, 

«/  t  y 

quickened  to  the  perception  of  an  ideal  beauty 
in  form  and  colouring,  is  patient  before  no  de¬ 
formity  of  outline,  and  no  false  shade  escapes 
him.  The  taste  for  beauty  of  sound  or  of  form 
is  uniform,  and  demands  perfection  everywhere. 
So  the  moral  sensibility  to  the  beautv  of  holiness 

t/  c / 

and  the  discordancy  of  evil,  will  be  uniform  in 

its  application  to  every  duty  and  every  affection. 

Its  aim  is,  “  being  right — and  being  right  is  one 

thing.  It  has  manv  forms,  but  onlv  one  essence." 

‘•The  verv  nature  of  true  excellence  in  one  form 
«/ 

is  a  pledge  for  its  existence  in  every  other  form 
and  of  course  its  absence,  unregretted,  unresisted, 
in  anv  form,  argues  its  absence  in  every  other 
form,  whatever  there  may  be  of  its  semblance. 

j  %j 

How  this  argument  is  too  clear  and  palpable 


NATURAL  VIRTUES. 


131 


to  need  much,  illustration.  If  one  should  present 
a  bar  of  iron,  which  he  averred  to  be  a  magnet, 
and  whose  claims  to  that  title  were  doubted,  the 
most  natural  way  of  deciding  the  question  would 
be  by  a  reference  to  the  action  of  that  property 
which  constitutes  the  magnet,  bv  virtue  of  which 
it  is  invariably  attracted  to  all  pieces  of  pure 
iron,  in  anv  direction,  and  without  regard  to  their 
shape.  So  that  the  metallic  blocks  were  pure, 
and  presented  fairly  and  directly  to  the  magnetic 
bar.  it  could  not  fail  to  cling  alike  to  all.  If  it 

CJ 

was  drawn  onlv  to  a  few,  and  that  with  very 
variable  and  irregular  attraction,  it  is  plain  that 
the  attractive  power,  whatever  it  might  be,  could 
not  be  that  true  magnetic  influence  which  draws 
to  all  alike  •  and  therefore,  whatever  other  prop¬ 
erties  the  vaunted  bar  might  claim,  and  how  well 
soever  its  peculiar  power  might  serve  some  use¬ 
ful  purposes,  it  surely  is  no  magnet. 

So  let  the  advocate  of  the  religious  character 
of  the  natural  virtues,  and  of  the  demonstration 
which  thev  would  offer  of  the  existence  of  the 

tj 

pure  love  of  holiness  in  every  form,  abide  bv 
that  principle,  that  if  the  heart  be  a  true  spirit¬ 
ual  magnet,  drawn  bv  its  attraction  to  moral  rec- 

CJ  7  c / 

titude,  to  embrace  it  and  cleave  to  it,  wherever 
and  however  it  may  manifest  itself,  then  it  will 


132 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


cleave  to  every  clearly  recognised  virtue  that 
adorns  our  earthly  intercourse,  and  yearn  toward 
every  duty  and  every  pure  affection.  It  will 
have  no  irregular  and  capricious  attraction,  se¬ 
lecting  some  virtues,  rejecting  others — cleaving 
with  blind  adhesion  to  one  dutv,  and  letting  an- 
other  go,  unresistingly,  under  any  outward  force. 
If,  amid  virtues  equally  recognised,  and  of  equal 
claims,  it  does  reject  one  or  more,  cleaving  in¬ 
stead  to  the  very  vices  which  are  their  opposites, 
then  it  acts  not  from  a  pure  principle :  all  its 
constant  and  intense  attraction  toward  a  few 
cannot  demonstrate  its  spiritual  magnetism.  By 
its  want  of  accordance  with  that  law  of  uniform 
attraction,  the  heart  is  proven  utterly  to  lack 
that  magnetic  love  of  rectitude.  What  it  may 
be ,  which  thus  attracts  it  in  some  directions,  may 
be  as  yet  unknown  or  unrevealed ;  but  it  is  not 
the  love  of  holiness.  How  many  useful  purposes 
it  may  serve,  and  how  much  beauty  and  reliev¬ 
ing  light  it  may  throw  over  the  gloom  of  human 
life,  is  matter  of  deep  thankfulness  to  God ;  but 
it  concerns  not  the  argument.  It  is  not  the  love 
of  rectitude  ;  it  is  not  religion  ;  it  will  not  serve 
spiritual  ends,  nor  secure  spiritual  rewards. 

Hor  will  it  avail  anvthing  in  such  a  case  to 

«y  o 

say  that  the  magnetic  force  is  but  weak,  or  as 


NATURAL  VIRTUES. 


133 


yet  imperfectly  developed,  for  its  attraction 
would  still  be  uniform  in  its  weakness ,  and  . 
while  it  drew  to  none  strongly,  would  draw  to 
all  alike.  And  so  it  is  nothing  to  the  purpose  to 
say  that  the  religious  element  is  as  yet  but  weak, 
uncultured,  undeveloped,  when,  instead  of  a 
faint  attraction  toward  every  clearly  recognised 
virtue,  the  heart  is  drawn  impulsively  to  some, 
and  is  all  indifference  or  repulsion  to  the  rest. 

How,  we  shall  not  urge  upon  any  heart  its  want 
of  attraction  to  that  form  of  excellence  and  holi¬ 
ness  which  is  highest  of  all,  and  charge  its  want 
of  interest  in  its  duties  toward  God  personally ; 
nor  shall  we  deny  that  there  are  many  cases  of 
conscience  where  the  moral  bearings  of  action 
cannot  at  once  be  calculated,  and  that  there  are 
modes  of  exercising  every  virtue  wrhich  are  only 
learned  by  long  observation  or  instruction  from 
others,  and  therefore  the  apparent  neglect  of 
these  duties  may  result  not  from  the  want  of  re¬ 
ligion,  but  from  imperfect  knowledge.  But  leav¬ 
ing  unnoticed  the  lesser  actions,  and  the  tribu¬ 
tary  feelings,  let  us  look  down  upon  the  great 
mountain  ranges  of  duty,  and  the  broad  streams 
of  moral  affections,  that  stand  out  upon  the  sur¬ 
face  of  human  life.  Take  the  extreme  cases,  the 
boldest  illustrations  of  character.  Here  are  hearts 


134 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


that  never  swerved  from  their  business  integrity, 
and  could  not  sleep  beneath  the  thought  of  com¬ 
mercial  dishonour,  who  are  yet  deaf  to  all  the 
appeals  of  benevolence  or  the  suggestions  of 
compassion.  Here  are  men  of  tender  sensibility, 
of  wide  philanthropy,  and  open  to  every  private 
solicitation  of  poverty  or  affliction,  upon  whose 
word,  nevertheless,  you  would  not  risk  anything 
of  value.  Here  are  men  full  of  gentleness  and 
consideration,  and  noble  self-denial  for  their  do¬ 
mestic  circle,  who,  beyond  the  enchanted  ring, 
are,  as  we  phrase  it,  not  the  same  men.  Listen 
to  the  utterance  of  a  stranger's  name,  and  there 
is  not  one  of  the  obvious  and  generally  recog¬ 
nised  of  the  so-called  moral  virtues,  which  you 
dare  warrant  him  to  have,  and  yet  you  are  firmly 
convinced  that  in  his  character  some  one  of 
them  will  be  conspicuous.  Take  the  names  of 
six  of  the  leading  moral  virtues  which  adorn  the 
natural  heart,  and  the  names  of  the  six  corre¬ 
sponding  vices  of  character,  mix  them  together, 
and  at  random  draw  out  six,  virtues  or  vices,  as 
they  shall  chance  to  come,  and  you  have  the 
elements  of  some  character  around  you — some¬ 
times  perhaps  a  solitary  virtue  among  recognised 
moral  deformities.  And  how  are  these  moral 
vices  borne  by  the  heart  thus  conspicuous  for 


NATURAL  VIRTUES. 


135 


justice,  or  benevolence?  Are  they  lamented, 
and  repressed  with  heroic  self-discipline,  and 
ingenuous  shame  ?  Not  at  all !  They  are  toler¬ 
ated,  frankly  admitted,  laughed  at,  indulged, 
with  the  same  composure  or  indifference  as  the 
virtues  are  exercised.  In  any  den  where  the 
vicious  have  herded  for  crime,  in  any  prison 
where  the  law  gathers  them  for  punishment, 
you  shall  see  bright  exemplifications  of  the  sep¬ 
arate  virtues,  living  and  more  glorious  from  the 
moral  death  that  is  around  them.  From  the 
same  eves  the  angel  and  the  fiend  gleam  out 
alternately. 

Now,  if  it  is  clear  that  it  is  not  the  love  of 
holiness,  or  rectitude,  which  has  thus  sustained 
the  redeeming  quality  of  historical  characters, 
who  have 


“  Left  a  name  to  all  succeeding  times, 

Link’d  with,  one  virtue  and  a  thousand  crimes,” 

the  case  is  made  out.  For  although  the  contrast 
may  be  less  striking  in  other  characters,  yet  the 
spuriousness  of  the  most  conspicuous  and  plausi¬ 
ble  of  these  natural  virtues  has  been  shown,  and 
all  the  less  conspicuous  and  less  contrasted  vir¬ 
tues  have  no  claim  on  our  confidence.  The  best 
samples  of  ore,  and  seemingly  pure  nuggets  of 


136 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


gold,  having  been  assayed  and  found  to  be  dross, 
the  smaller  fragments  and  less  valuable  ore  is 
included  in  the  investigation. 

If,  then,  integrity  goes  hand  in  hand  with  cru¬ 
elty,  and  compassion  embraces  lust,  and  affection 
can  take  sweet  counsel  with  theft,  it  is  clear  that 
they  are  not  that  integrity,  and  that  compassion, 
and  that  affection,  which  came  out  from  God’s 
presence  with  his  benediction,  and  may  lead 
back  the  heart  to  him.  They  may  wear  the 
mask,  but  they  have  not  the  Spirit  of  heaven. 
If  they  should  be  discovered  with  only  one  of 
hell’s  vices  as  a  boon  companion,  that  willing 
association  detects  and  condemns  them.  If  the 
case  should  occur  that  the  accustomed  vice  is 
absent,  or  concealed,  they  cannot  draw  from  the 
accidental  circumstance  a  proof  of  their  real 
sanctity.  That  it  is  not  from  any  innate  want 
of  congeniality  on  their  part  that  the  vice  is 
absent,  their  easy  fellowship  on  other  occasions 
has  exhibited.  In  short,  an  examination  of  the 
natural  virtues  demonstrates  that  they  have  no 
root  in  the  true  principle  of  virtue.  They  may 
be  useful,  they  may  be  beautiful ;  but  they  are 
not  the  affections  and  sentiments  which  a  spirit¬ 
ual  nature  would  present  to  view.  They  differ 
not  in  degree  alone,  but  in  kind. 


NATURAL  VIRTUES. 


137 


Rare  characters  there  are,  of  splendid  combi¬ 
nation  of  all  that  is  noble  in  such  principles,  and 
amiable  in  such  sensibilities ;  men  who  seem  to 
have  inherited  the  virtues  only  of  long  ancestries, 
and  to  stand  forth,  from  very  childhood  to  the 
grave,  as  beings  moulded  expressly  to  display 
how  grand  a  soul  the  common  elements  of  hu¬ 
manity  can  form,  of  their  unaided  energy.  Poor 
human  nature !  these  are  thy  nobility,  and  thy 
kingly  ones !  And  there  is  not  a  gem  of  all  the 
brilliant  qualities  that  flash  from  their  coronet 
and  proclaim  their  dignity,  but  it  has  been  sepa¬ 
rately  tested — and  found  spurious ! 

Thus,  without  appealing  to  a  consciousness  of 
neglect  or  enmity  toward  God — leaving  that 
question  for  the  moment  in  abeyance — we  have 
examined  the  natural  virtues  by  themselves,  and 
find  in  them  a  want  of  that  symmetry,  regularity, 
and  uniformity,  which  is  an  invariable  attendant 
on  true  love  of  rectitude — true  holy  principle. 
The  natural  virtues  are  not  religious  impulses. 

7Ye  have  not  yet  asked  what  they  really  are, 
nor  what  purpose  they  serve.  What  they  are , 
and  vjJiy  they  are,  we  may  not  be  able  to  say ; 
yet  we  may  say  what  they  are  not.  The  com¬ 
position  of  the  spurious  coin  matters  little,  so  the 


138 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


assay  proves  it  is  not  gold.  Let  ns  go  where  we 

may  receive  that  which  will  not  deceive  ns. 
*/ 

And  yet  in  a  few  pages  we  may  he  able  to  sug¬ 
gest  the  real  nature  of  these  natural  virtues,  and 
to  show  what  part  they  are  meant  to  work  in  the 
redemption  of  the  soul. 


Relation  of 


YI. 

'Poxalitjj  to  5|Ulujtoit 


“  It  seems  that  the  Highest  Good  of  the  world  pursues  its 
course  of  increase  and  prosperity  quite  independently  of  all 
human  virtues  or  vices,  according  to  its  own  laws,  through 
an  invisible  and  unknown  power — just  as  the  heavenly  bodies 
run  their  appointed  course  independently  of  all  human  effort : 
and  that  this  power  carries  forward,  in  its  own  great  plan, 
all  human  intentions,  good  and  bad,  and,  with  superior  power, 
employs  for  its  own  purpose  that  which  was  undertaken  foi 
other  ends.” 


Fichte. 


VI. 


THE  RELATION  OE  MORALITY  TO  RELIGION. 

There  is  no  wide-spread  and  popular  error  but 
there  is  in  it  an  element  of  truth,  in  virtue  of 
which  it  has  its  hold  on  the  mind  ;  and  so  there 
is  a  truth  lodged  within  the  popular  notion  of  the 
identity  of  natural  goodness  with  religion.  Be- 

«/  o  o 

cause  the  mind  cannot  reject  this  truth  that  lies 
within  it,  the  proof  of  its  error,  however  logically 
made  out,  will  not  be  appreciated  until  the  truth 
and  the  error  are  separated,  and  the  error  is  left 
alone  in  its  falsity. 

Let  us  say,  then,  that  it  is  a  truth  admitting 
of  no  demonstration,  but  an  intuitively  recog¬ 
nised  fact,  that  when  the  love  of  rectitude  is  the 
sole  principle  of  the  heart,  that  heart  will  be 

filled  with  all  holy  sentiments  and  affections. 

«/ 

True,  pure  love  alone  fills  the  soul  that  yields 

itself  to  the  service  of  holiness ;  and  this  love  is 

of  the  same  deep-springing  fountain,  whether  its 

stream  flow  toward  the  throne  of  God,  or  descend 

in  rivulets  of  earthly  moralities  toward  man. 

«/ 


142 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


Benevolence,  compassion,  justice — every  virtue 
that  can  adorn  this  life — are  only  separate  names 
for  the  same  principle  or  affection,  guided  into 
a  peculiar  channel  of  circumstances,  and  varying 
only  with  the  character  of  the  objects  among 
which  it  flows.  That  pure  love  which  fills  the 
heart  is  like  the  ocean,  and  as  God’s  attributes 
of  solemn  or  softer  character  are  more  clearly 
presented  to  the  consciousness,  like  a  varying 
sky,  that  sea  of  love  is  tinged  with  solemn  adora¬ 
tion,  or  the  tenderness  of  filial  trust ;  but  all  is  love. 
And  human  relationships  are  like  the  broken 
shore  about  that  ocean — lying  in  varied  forms  of 
deep  sound  or  sheltered  bay,  or  inland  sea,  con¬ 
nected  with  the  one  great  sea ;  and  from  their 
forms  and  depths,  taking  different  names,  while 
yet  the  tide  that  fills  them  all  is  one.  It  flows 
among  dark  cliffs  of  sorrow,  and  becomes  shad¬ 
owed  into  compassion :  it  flows  amid  insults 
and  oppression,  and  their  reflected  and  inverted 
forms  mark  its  patience,  long-suffering,  and  for¬ 
giveness  :  it  glides  into  the  regular  and  exact 
enclosures  of  obligation,  and  it  becomes  justice. 
“If  there  be  any  other  commandment,  it  is  briefly 
contained  in  this,  Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbour 
as  thyself.”  And  this  second  command  is  not 
only  like  the  first,  but  requires  the  same  idem 


RELATION  OF  MORALITY  TO  RELIGION.  143 


tical  affection;  lie  that  loveth  God,  loveth  man 
— and  he  only.  Tlie  ocean  of  holy  love  fills 
the  adjoining  gulfs  of  human  affections.  So  a 
pure  soul,  new-created,  and  placed  amid  the  re¬ 
lations  of  a  finite  existence,  would  at  once  feel 
the  appropriate  emotions  awake  within  the  heart 
as  each  new  occasion  was  recognised. 

But  what  is  more  to  the  purpose  of  this  argu¬ 
ment,  the  popular,  and  we  might  say,  the  intui¬ 
tive  sense,  is  everywhere — not  only  that  a  right 
principle  secures  both  pure  love  to  God,  and 
pure  affections  in  earthly  relationship,  but  that 
a  wrong  principle  will  reverse  the  whole ,  and  de¬ 
stroy  at  once  not  only  love  to  God,  but  also 
every  separate  pure  earthly  affection.  Every 
one  feels  that  an  unholy  heart  will  not  be  filled 
with  that  pure  spirit  which  constitutes  the  va¬ 
rious  affections  and  qualities  of  human  virtue ; 
that  a  heart  destitute  of  the  principles  of  moral 
rectitude  will  not  love  God,  and  will  not  love 
man;  that  the  same  fatal  enchantment  which 
changes  the  great  ocean  of  the  heart  into  enmity 
against  God,  would  of  necessity  change  the  na¬ 
ture  of  the  tide  that  fills  every  bay  and  gulf  of 
human  affection.  If  charity,  pure  and  unde¬ 
filed,  fill  the  soul  with  meekness,  gentleness,  pa¬ 
tience,  kindness,  and  compassion,  justice  and  all 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


144 

that  is  of  good  report,  then  will  the  heart  whose 
charity  is  turned  to  gall  he  filled  with  envy, 
jealousy,  hatred,  wrath,  blasphemies,  and  every 
evil  affection  and  impulse.  If  being  right  is 
one  thing,  being  wrong  also  is  one  thing ;  if  be¬ 
ing  right  includes  all  religion,  and  philanthropy, 
and  human  virtues,  being  wrong  includes  all 
irreligion,  and  unloveliness,  and  vicious  affections. 
If  a  perfectly  pure  heart  would  fill  every  rela¬ 
tion  of  life  with  a  perfect  virtue  and  loveliness, 
then  a  totally  depraved  heart  would  fill  every 
relation  of  life  with  vice,  and  discord,  and  terror. 

Such  being  the  law  of  spiritual  affection,  be 
it  good  or  evil,  men  feel  instinctively  that  either 
a  perfect  purity  or  a  perfect  pollution  of  heart 
would  produce  a  very  different  world  of  feeling 
and  of  action,  from  that  which  we  see  about  us. 
And  so  it  would. 

It  is  this  one  principle  that  destroys  the  force 
of  the  entire  Chalmerian  view  of  depravity. 
That  system  represents  all  the  natural  virtues 
and  affections  as  being  the  unfallen  columns  of 
the  ruined  temple  of  our  nature — it  .supposes 
them  to  have  continued  the  same  in  nature  as 
they  were  before  the  fall — and  that  the  relative 


RELATION  OF  MORALITY  TO  RELIGION.  145 


virtues  have  in  themselves  no  moral  character  at 
all,  but  as  a  religious  principle  is  associated  with 
them  or  not,  they  are  considered  religious  or 
irreligious.  Generosity,  benevolence,  sensibili¬ 
ty,  etc.,  are  not  the  out-growtli  of  a  virtuous 
principle — -dependent  upon  it  for  very  exist¬ 
ence — dying  when  it  dies — 'but  are  self-sub sist- 
ing  qualities  and  impulses,  which,  by  mere  con¬ 
tact  with  a  virtuous  principle,  acquire  a  legal 
value.  So  that,  as  his  own  illustration  imagines, 
a  world  of  perfect  beings  in  whom  at  one  stroke 
the  religious  principle  was  swept  away,  might 
still  continue  in  exercise  of  all  the  moral  vir¬ 
tues — “  all  that  is  dignified  in  principle,  and  all 
that  is  tender  in  sensibility the  sole  change 
being,  that  those  moral  affections  were  not 
associated  with  a  religious  principle,  and  that 
the  one  moral  affection  toward  God  is  wholly 
wanting. 

This  last  exception  to  the  stability  of  these 
affections  is  singular,  and  ominous  of  a  fatal  in- 
consistency.  If  want  of  pure  devotion  to  recti¬ 
tude  may  not  destroy  my  disinterested  affection 
toward  an  earthly  parent,  why  must  it  destroy 
my  love  and  sensibility  to  the  character  of  the 
heavenly  Parent?  If  we  can  obey,  and  rever¬ 
ence,  and  love  a  father,  without  doing  it  from 

10 


146 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


moral  principle,  why  may  we  not  serve  and 

obey  God,  not  from  moral  principle,  but-  from 

the  old,  unaltered  affection,  although  it  is  of  no 

legal  value  t  Chalmers  attempts  to  show  that 

the  consciousness  of  transgression  and  of  God's 

character,  as  moral  governor  and  avenger — of 

the  contradiction  of  his  commands  to  manv  of 

«/ 

the  voices  of  the  heart's  desires — creates  disaf¬ 
fection  toward  God.  But  does  observation  sus¬ 
tain  the  theory?  Is  it  bv  any  such  reasoning 
that  the  mind  is  thus  graduallv  alienated  from 
God — thus  made  insensible  to  his  claims  alone 
of  all  the  universe — thus  roused  into  a  desperate 
opposition  to  the  rectoral  authority  ?  Many  men 
never  realize  this  personal  relation  at  all — they 
never  feel  the  bitterness  of  danger,  and  attempt 
to  suppress  it ;  they  simply  have  no  sensibility 
in  regard  to  the  claims  of  God,  as  thev  have  in 
regard  to  others.  The  absence  of  this  affection 
is  as  original — as  spontaneous — as  natural — as 
the  presence  of  any  of  the  others.  There  are 
hearts  which  no  hard  usage,  and  no  parental 
discipline,  however  severe,  can  alienate ;  whose 
love  gives  acknowledgment  of  the  justice  of 
everv  blow,  and  cleaves  to  the  loved  mother 
or  father  through  all  punishment  and  through 
every  change ;  but  where  is  found  this  devotion 


RELATION  OF  MORALITY  TO  RELIGION.  147 


to  God — inspiring  obedience,  even  in  hearts  that 
have  no  love  to  holiness,  as  such  ? 

And  so  it  is  felt  everywhere,  that  if  u  being 
wrong'*  would  not  onlv  destrov  the  leqcil  value 

C  1 1  *J  V 

of  love  to  God.  but  destroy  the  very  being  of  love , 
and  call  its  opposite  vice  into  existence — then 
would  it  also  destrov  all  the  other  moral  affec- 

e / 

tions.  In  fact,  as  we  said  before,  moral  principle 
being  taken  from  the  heart,  the  entire  ocean  of  its 
affection  becomes  polluted,  and  every  indenture 
along;  the  coast  would  feel  the  immediate  stagna- 
tion.  The  purely  animal  appetites  might  be  un¬ 
changed  :  and  even  these,  being  unrestrained 
bv  the  voice  of  conscience,  would  run  to  excess 

t  / 

and  ruin — but  the  moral  affections,  benevolence, 
justice,  Ac.,  are  at  once  destroyed. 

What,  then,  are  these  natural  virtues,  and 
how  are  thev  to  be  accounted  for  ? 

Let  us,  in  contrast  to  the  Chalmerian  idea, 
conceive  of  a  world  in  which,  at  one  stroke,  all 
true  religious  principle  were  struck  away.  Im¬ 
agine  that  this  world  in  which  we  live,  with  all 

y 

its  advancement  hi  civilization,  all  its  mental 
culture,  all  its  arrangements  to  secure  the  ob¬ 
vious  welfare  of  society,  were  suddenly  to  sink 
into  a  state  such  as  would  result,  according  to 
the  popular  idea,  if  all  moral  principle  were 


148 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


♦ 

extinct,  and  the  race  became — totally  depraved  ! 
Commerce,  and  trade,  and  art,  and  all  that  sys¬ 
tem  of  connected  labour  which  demands  mutual 
confidence  and  integrity,  would  give  way  to  the 
unchecked  rapacity  and  faithlessness  which  no 
penalty  of  mere  law  could  restrain.  The  social 
ties  that  hind  men  together  would  wither  in  the 
scorching  breath  of  angry  passion :  home  itself, 
as  being  the  spot  where  all  interests  are  brought 
most  into  contact, — if  not  of  cooperation,  of  harsh 
collision,' — would  be  the  deepest  sink  of  evil,  as 
the  purest  flowers  are  fabled  to  putrefy  the  foul¬ 
est.  The  attraction  that  bound  man  to  man,  to 
kindred,  to  home,  to  wife  and  child,  becomes  the 
attraction  of  repulsion,  that  leaves  each  soul 
isolated,  and  selfish,  and  hating  each  intruding 
and  unsubservient  soul.  Stung  with  a  sense  of 
guilt  and  self-contempt  that  makes  the  soul  des¬ 
perate  in  its  evil ;  crushed  by  the  dread  of  wrath 
that  soon  must  pour  its  lightning  down  in  rain 
of  fire ;  hopeless  and  reckless  of  relief  or  recov¬ 
ery  ;  frenzied  by  passions  that  burst  the  frail 
vessel  of  mortality,  or  whirl  the  mind  in  torna¬ 
does  of  emotion ;  filled  with  vindictive  hate  that 
knows  no  satiety  but  in  the  annihilation  of  its 
victim ;  the  multitudes  of  earth,  unless  secured 
by  a  new  gift  of  immortality,  would  fall  in  the 


RELATION  OF  MORALITY  TO  RELIGION.  149 


suicide  of  a  frame  too  frail  to  hold  the  violence 
within  it,  or  in  mutual  and  rapid  extermination 
the  race  would  die  out,  ere  the  generation  that 
is  in  its  prime  grew  old.  The  gift  of  immortal¬ 
ity,  indeed,  might  keep  the  present  population 
on  its  surface;  but  the  conjugal  relation,  the 
maternal  care,  the  provision  for  youth,  would  all 
be  forgotten :  and  if  new  habitants  were  ushered 
into  life,  how  terrible  the  fate  !  Then  would  we 
feel  it  a  feeble  portrait  of  each  soul  that  the 
apostle  draws  : — “  Being  filled  with  all  unright¬ 
eousness,  fornication,  wickedness,  covetousness, 
maliciousness ;  full  of  envy,  murder,  debate,  de¬ 
ceit,  malignity ;  whisperers,  backbiters,  haters 
of  God,  despiteful,  proud,  boasters,  inventors  of 
evil  things,  disobedient  to  parents,  without  un¬ 
derstanding,  covenant-breakers,  without  natural 
affection,  implacable,  unmerciful.”  How  would 
this  very  world  of  ours,  with  all  its  wonted  love- 
liness  of  earth,  and  sky,  and  sea,  and  with  the 
very  beings  who  dwell  peacefully  upon  it  now, 
be  turned  at  once,  not  figuratively,  but  literally, 
into  a  hell  of  fiends. 

How  pause  and  think !  How  could  a  pur¬ 
pose  of  mercy  and  a  plan  of  redemption  through 
an  atoning  Saviour,  be  brought  to  bear  upon 
such  a  race,  and  be  in  any  sense  a  valid  and 


150 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


available  offer?  How,  amid  the  remorse,  and 
fearfulness,  and  desperation,  and  tumultuous  pas¬ 
sion,  could  any  thought  be  gained  to  a  proposal 
of  renewed  allegiance,  any  faith  be  secured  in 
its  sincerity,  any  commencement  given  to  the 
struggle  against  sin,  and  any  practicable  proba¬ 
tion  afforded  during  a  specified  reprieve  ?  Tain 
were  it,  when  revengeful  armies,  amid  the  heat 
of  battle,  desperate  with  mutual  hatred  and  de¬ 
struction,  pause  for  a  charge  and  onset  yet  more 
furious,  for  a  meek  messenger  to  come  between, 
and  speak  of  concessions  and  forgiveness  and 
love.  Vain,  even,  when  a  crew  of  revellers  are 
heated  with  poisoned  draughts,  and  fired  to 
sensuality  and  brutal  passions,  to  speak  of  tem¬ 
perance,  and  sober  joys,  and  self-controlling 
mastery.  But  vainer  still,  upon  this  hell-struck 
world,  for  one  of  earth  or  heaven  to  speak  of 
pardon  and  Renewed  submission,  of  a  clean  heart, 
and  a  right  spirit,  and  a  new  probation. 

Is  it  not  clear,  that  som q preliminary  steps  are 
requisite  before  this  practicable  offer  can  be  pre¬ 
sented  ? 

In  the  first  place,  must  not  God,  as  we  showed 
more  fully  in  the  chapter  on  the  unconsciousness 


RELATION  OF  MORALITY  TO  RELIG-ION.  151 

of  guilt,  suspend  in  some  way  that  law  by  which 
remorse  is  ever  haunting  sin,  and  pointing  to  a 
more  fearful  wrath  ?  Did  we  not  see  that  if  the 
consciousness  of  vileness  comes  too  vividlv  to  the 
mind,  it  crushes  into  hopeless  self-despair  and  un¬ 
belief  in  mercy,  or  rouses  into  recklessness?  Did 
we  not  see  how  that  fearful  looking-for  of  fiery 
indignation  which  sometimes  glares  upon  the 
guilty  soul,  unfits  it  for  every  duty,  and  for  all 
the  offices  that  perpetuate  and  civilize  the  race : 
like  poor  Bunyan  sitting  on  the  horse-block  list- 
lesslv.  dav  after  day,  the  very  sun  that  cheered 
all  others  seeming  to  him  the  burning  eye  of 
vengeance?  And  may  we  not  now  say  at  once, 
that  an  essential  preliminary  to  probation  would 
be  to  deaden  this  sensibility  so  far,  that  while 
remorse  and  fear  might  attest  their  presence,  and 
teach  their  lessons,  they  should  not  overawe  and 
paralyze  the  soul? 

And  then  the  violence,  the  sweep,  the  frenzy, 
of  passion  and  emotion,  must  they  not  be  checked  ? 
Must  not  the  heart  be  subdued  to  some  kind  of 
calmness,  so  that  reflection,  and  a  clear  percep¬ 
tion  of  things,  and  a  wise  decision,  could  be  pos¬ 
sible?  Not  that  the  soul  is  to  be  repressed  into 
a  dead  calm ;  but  that  a  restraining  influence 
should  go  forth  over  the  heart,  like  oil  upon  the 


152 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


tumultuous  billows  of  passion,  beneath  which 
the  measured  swell  still  betokens  the  repressed 
fury  of  the  element,  and  yet  it  may  not  wreck 
with  its  impulsive  rage  every  sober  thought  or 
better  purpose,  or  human  amelioration.  So  that 
we  say,  comparatively,  the  passions  are  to  be 
repressed,  equally  with  the  sense  of  guilt  and 
danger. 

But  even  then,  while  men  stood  calmly,  and 
without  violent  repulsion  of  selfish  passion,  there 
would  be  no  social  attraction,  no  sentiment  and 
affection,  which,  like  the  pure  impulses  lost  by 
sin,  might  reconstitute  society,  and  the  family, 
and  all  the  essential  machinery  of  human  im¬ 
provement,  cooperation,  and  development.  And 
where  are  those  affections  to  come  from  ?  The 
soul  has  but  two  classes  of  affections  possible — the 
evil  and  the  good :  the  good  are  yet  unproduced ; 
they  are  the  end  to  be  attained  by  this  plan  of 
redemption,  and  of  course  cannot  be  produced  in 
advance;  the  evil  impulses  have  just  been  re¬ 
pressed.  What  substitute  for  the  soul’s  true  and 
pure  affections  yet  remains  ? 

Why,  if  the  spiritual  nature  is  thus  depraved, 
and  the  best  that  can  be  done  with  it  is  to  let  its 
outpouring  affections  be  repressed,  so  that  no 
really  pure  and  generous  emotions  can  proceed 


RELATION  OF  MORALITY  TO  RELIGION.  153 


outward  from  the  essential  and  immortal  element 
of  the  soul  itself,  there  can  be  no  resource,  un¬ 
less  God  has  power  to  impress  upon  the  soul,  for 
the  time  being,  impulses  which,  having  no  neces¬ 
sary  connexion  with  moral  principle,  being  not 
the  production  of  the  soul  itself,  are  yet  capable 
of  leading  the  will,  blindly  it  may  be,  to  the  same 
outward  conduct  which  would  be  secured  by  the 
intelligent  action  of  pure  affections.  In  short,  the 
soul  which  cannot  in  strict  truth  have  virtuous  af¬ 
fections,  must  be  impressed  with  parallel  instincts. 

How,  without  saying  that  there  is  identity  of 
character  between  these  human  impulses  and 
those  which  constitute  the  instincts  of  the  brute 
creation,  we  may  remark  that  natural  history 
furnishes  us  wTith  a  singular  correspondence  be¬ 
tween  the  acknowledged  instinct  of  the  brute, 
and  the  true  and  high  affection  which  we  con¬ 
ceive  to  be  the  natural  production  of  a  pure 
heart.  There  is  hardly  a  quality  which  adorns 
the  natural  character,  which  has  not  a  parallel 
in  some  mere  animal  characteristic.  Poetry, 
seeking  its  analogies  everywhere,  has  found 
them  most  obvious  here ;  and  even  in  sober 
prose,  the  epithets  which  are  in  common  use  to 
designate  human  character,  lovely  as  well  as 
repulsive,  are  taken  most  frequently  from  the 


154 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


animal  creation.  Without  comprehension  of  the 
virtue  of  truth  and  honesty,  animals  exhibit 
fidelity  and  candour,  or  faithlessness  and  craft ; 
without  realizing  the  moral  beauty  of  benevo¬ 
lence,  they  are  generous,  or  selfish ;  unconscious 
of  the  spiritual  bearings  of  the  sensibilities,  they 
are  yet  amiable,  patient,  sympathizing,  and  for¬ 
giving,  or  the  reverse.  Utterly  ignorant  of  those 
considerations  of  various  interests  and  relation¬ 
ships  which  may  be  affected,  and  which  from 
our  point  of  consciousness  throw  such  a  poetic 
propriety  and  beauty  around  their  instinctive  ser¬ 
vices  or  resentments,  they  blindlv  yield  to  those 
amiable  and  truthful  impulses  which  sustain 
the  lower  animate  creation  in  existence  and  in 
enjoyment.  Indeed,  it  is  not  sarcasm  to  say,  that 
you  might  gather  an  instinctive  quality  from  each 
of  a  variety  of  species,  and  combine  them  into  a 
character  of  dignity  and  grace.  And,  provided 
that  the  intellectual  being  may  see  the  beauty 
and  the  importance  of  the  relations  thus  met, 
and  duties  thus  discharged,  this  being,  without  a 
particle  of  a  spiritual  nature,  with  no  real  moral 
character  at  all — a  mere  intellectual  brute  — 
might  go  through  life  and  maintain  much  of  its 
principle  and  much  of  its  amiability. 

How,  the  difference  between  an  affectional 


RELATION  OF  MORALITY  TO  RELIGION. 


155 


instinct  and  a  true  affection,  good  or  evil,  is  the 
same  as  that  between  the  mechanical  or  migra¬ 
tory  instincts  and  an  intellectual  and  understand- 

e/ 

ing  faculty.  The  intellect  perceives  the  facts 
and  principles,  and  reasoning  from  these  it 
reaches  its  conclusions ;  the  instinct  blindly  and 
mechanically  urges  the  ant  to  store,  and  the  bee 
to  build  its  hectagons  and  the  bird  its  nest. 
God  does  the  brute’s  intellectual  work,  and  gives 
it  the  result ;  and  the  bare  fact  that  it  needs  and 
has  the  instinct  shows  that  it  lacks  the  intel¬ 
lect.  So  the  spiritual  being,  seeing  the  relations 
of  things,  and  moved  by  that  one  spirit  of 
love  which  is  ready  to  express  itself  in  all  the 
various  relations  around  it,  has  its  moral  affec¬ 
tions — springing  from  the  one  great  moral  affec¬ 
tion  as  their  conscious  root,  and  having  regard 
to  the  moral  consecpiences  of  things ;  but  the 
affectional  instincts  of  the  brute,  its  sympathy 
or  its  fidelity,  are  mere  blind  impulses,  each  in¬ 
dependent  of  the  other.  The  bare  fact  that  God 
gives  the  brute  these  affections  or  moral  in¬ 
stincts,  onlv  shows  its  destitution  of  that  effective 

*  %j 

spiritual  nature  which  would  understanding^ 
lead  it  to  the  same  conduct.  The  moral  in¬ 
stincts,  like  the  mental  instincts,  are  mere 
substitutes  for  the  comprehending  and  intel- 

x  o 


156 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


ligent  affections  and  reasoning  powers  of  the 
soul. 

But  is  it  doubted  whether  such  affectional  in¬ 
stincts  could  be  impressed,  independently  of 
spiritual  production?  Do  they  seem  so  consti¬ 
tutional  where  they  exist,  and  so  born  with  us, 
that  they  must  cleave  to  us  forever,  as  a  part  of 
our  original  being  ?  Can  God  add  or  withdraw 
them,  and  leave  our  spiritual  affections,  good  or 
evil,  alone,  to  act  out  their  nature  ? 

Consider,  for  a  moment,  that  form  of  human 
affection  which  has  ever  been  the  least  va¬ 
riable  of  all  the  better  impulses  that  adorn  our 
nature — a  mother’s  love.  How,  in  every  new 
aspect  in  which  it  is  seen,  it  gathers  nev 
fitness  and  tender  beauty!  How  every  pecu 
liarity  of  the  maternal  relation,  and  the  infantile 
weakness,  seems  adapted  to  call  out  from  a  heart 
of  holy  love  that  very  constancy  and  tenderness 
of  affection  which  grace  a  mother’s  love.  That 
life  to  which  she  has  given  existence ;  that  form 
which  shall  yet  bear  the  likeness  of  her  own 
features,  and  inherit  the  sufferings  or  the  health¬ 
fulness  of  her  own  frame,  and  whose  living 
soul — a  spark  smitten  from  her  own — shall  burn 


RELATION  OF  MORALITY  TO  RELIGION. 


157 


with  the  true  or  false  lustre  of  her  own  peculiar 
passions ;  that  helpless  innocence  which  seeks 
its  life’s  nutriment  still  from  her  alone,  and 
claims  her  for  its  guardian ;  that  ignorance  and 
undeveloped  moral  being  which  is  yet  to  be 
moulded  by  example  and  by  care  to  virtue  or  to 
vice :  how  do  all  these  appeal  to  the  pure  sym¬ 
pathies  and  active  energies  of  a  holy  heart! 
Yet  the  bird  that  cherishes  her  nestlings  has  no 
thought  of  these  relationships ;  her  warm  and 
self-denying  affection,  toiling  and  defending 
dav  bv  dav,  is  a  blind  affectional  instinct — 
serving  good  purposes,  and  yielding  much  hap¬ 
piness — but  a  mere  instinct  still.  When  the 
young  nestlings  have  grown  to  strength  ade¬ 
quate  for  self-defence  and  support,  the  end  is 
accomplished,  and  the  maternal  instinct  dies 
away.  So,  while  the  same  reasons  of  expe¬ 
diency  which  required  its  strength  to  watch  over 
infancy,  requires  its  continuance  as  a  social 
bond,  yet  is  this  human  affection  generally  recog¬ 
nised  as  an  instinct  still.  It  is  not  based  upon 
•any  perception  of  the  relations  that  give  it  fitness 

and  beautv.  It  is  not  removed  when  the  most 
«/ 

obvious  inducements  to  parental  care  appear  to 
be  removed  by  the  offer  of  another’s  care,  better 
advantages,  and  a  safer  future.  In  ignorance, 


158 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


and  poverty,  and  ignominy,  and  abandoned  vice, 
yea,  in  imbecility  and  idiocy,  that  instinct — 
lives  on. 

]STow  we  do  not  say  that  this  or  other  affec- 
tional  instincts  cannot  be  associated  with  a  true 
and  pure  affection,  if  the  soul  itself  be  purified 
and  free :  we  do  not  say  that  there  is  not  such 
spiritual  affection  associated  with  many  a  moth¬ 
er’s  love.  But  we  dwell  upon  it  to  show  how, 
without  any  intelligent  and  spontaneous  activity 
from  within,  the  heart  may  be  so  drawn;  to 
show  how  undistinguish  able  by  consciousness 
that  instinct  may  be,  from  the  true  spiritual  love ; 
and  how  easily,  if  it  stand  not  alone,  this  in¬ 
stinctive  yearning  blends  with  and  strengthens 
the  more  ethereal  affection,  and  so  becomes  in 
wdiole  or  in  part  its  substitute.  "We  do  not 
specify,  but  we  only  suggest  how  far  such 
affectional  instincts  of  benevolence,  or  compas¬ 
sion,  or  fidelity,  impressed  upon  the  heart  like  a 
maternal  tenderness,  might,  in  the  absence  of 
true  spiritual  affections,  accomplish  the  same 
social  results. 

It  may  throw  a  fresh  light  over  all  we  have 
said,  and  sum  it  all,  to  say,  that  if  this  earth  be 
a  sphere  for  the  development  and  culture  of  a 


RELATION  OF  MORALITY  TO  RELIGION.  159 

spiritual  character,  and  God  designs  that  the 
race  should  he  perpetuated,  and  that  each  suc¬ 
cessive  generation  should  have  an  offer  and  a 
probation ;  it  will  be  necessary  that  everything 
requisite  for  the  safety,  the  life,  and  the  general 
progress  of  man,  shall  be  secured  independently 
of  the  moral  character  of  each  individual ;  so 
that  the  whole  shall  move  on,  no  matter  how  the 
spiritual  life  may  vary  in  any  soul  who  comes  on 
or  goes  off  the  stage  of  action. 

TV  hat  further  influence  upon  the  soul  may  be 
required  to  fit  it  for  probation,  we  do  not  now 
inquire  ;  but  we  are  sure  that  a  fair  platform  for 
further  operations  may  be  obtained  by  these 
three  measures — a  deadened  consciousness  of 
guilt,  repressed  passion,  and  the  affectional 
instincts.  These  instincts,  supported  by  the 
systems  of  rewards  and  punishments  adminis¬ 
tered  in  this  life,  would  preserve  a  true  proba¬ 
tionary  condition. 

Suppose  that  a  small  minority  only  of  those 
who  come  upon  the  stage  should  embrace  the 
proffered  salvation,  and  be  renewed  with  spirit¬ 
ual  affections ;  vet  the  continued  svstem  of  re- 
pression  would  be  needed  by  them,  so  long  as 
the  spiritual  life  were  not  perfected,  and  would 


160 


NATURAL.  GOODNESS. 


be  demanded  in  the  majority  who  were  rejected, 
to  secure  for  the  few  who  were  chosen  a  possible 
field  of  exercise  and  discipline,  that  they  may 
not  at  once  be  crushed  by  the  vindictive  passions 
of  the  incorrigible  and  rej  ecting. 

And  so,  if  every  soul  that  lives — the  entire 
generation — be  doomed,  from  its  perverse  rejec¬ 
tion  of  offered  mercy,  to  perish ;  yet  must  a  pro¬ 
longed  life,  and  all  the  amenities  and  kind  offices 
of  life,  be  secured,  in  order  that  another  genera¬ 
tion  may  arise,  nurtured  in  infancy,  instructed 
and  trained  to  a  fitness  for  their  own  succeeding 
probation  and  invitation  to  salvation. 

It  is  not  necessary  that  every  soul  should  be 
subjected  to  a  complete  repression  of  every  evil 
passion,  and  be  impressed  with  every  moral  in¬ 
stinct.  Indeed,  such  universal  concealment  of 
the  evil  would  lead  men  into  error.  So  com¬ 
pletely  do  they  confound  their  affectional  in¬ 
stincts  with  true  moral  affections,  that  it  is  only 
as  the  virtuous  instinct  fails,  and  no  moral  affec¬ 
tion  fills  the  void,  that  men  feel  the  deficiency. 
If  every  tendency  to  rectitude  of  action  were 
secured  by  an  impulse  from  without,  the  inward 
energy  of  the  awakening  spiritual  affection  would 
have  no  struggle  and  no  discipline.  So  that  in 
every  character  wTe  are  to  expect  some  absence 


RELATION  OF  MORALITY  TO  RELIGION.  161 

even  of  virtuous  instincts — points  on  which  the 
soul  is  left  alone,  to  show  its  weakness  and  its 
evil ;  and  by  which  others,  who  are  not  biased 
by  the  consciousness  of  personal  dereliction  in 
that  especial  vice,  may  see  its  naked  deformity. 
If,  for  instance,  one-fiftli  of  the  community  lacked 
the  instinct  of  justice  or  honesty,  and  so  the  true 
spiritual  deficiency  is  made  apparent,  yet  the 
other  four-fifths,  secured  from  that  vice  by  their 
more  favoured  impulse,  will  hold  that  minority 
in  check  by  law,  and  shame,  and  social  penal¬ 
ties  against  dishonesty.  If  another  fifth  be  reck¬ 
less  of  all  truth,  yet  the  very  moiety  of  thieves 
would  join  in  keeping  the  liars  in  abeyance. 
And  thus  each  vice  might  have  its  glaring  ex¬ 
amples,  and  every  character  might  reveal  a  de¬ 
formity,  and  the  world  might  realize  the  enor- 
mity  and  danger  of  each  form  of  evil,  and  the 
blackness  of  the  moral  depravity  that  can  com¬ 
bine  them  all  in  complete  malignity,  and  yet 
society  would  hold  itself  in  check,  and  the  world’s 
machinery  go  on  the  same  ;  all  by  the  mere  dis 
tribution  of  these  natural  instincts  among  men, 
according  to  a  law  not  more  difficult  to  God,  nor 
any  more  mysterious  than  that  which  balances 
the  proportion  of  the  sexes  in  the  multitude  of 
births. 


n 


162 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


Recall,  now,  the  steps  of  this  argument.  In 
the  last  essay  it  was  demonstrated  that  valua¬ 
ble  and  beautiful  as  these  so-called  natural  vir¬ 
tues  are — these  forms  of  natural  goodness — yet 
they  are  not  religious  affections,  and  do  not  spring 
from  a  love  of  rectitude.  Yet  it  is  felt  that  if  a 
holy  heart  would  produce  all  holy  affections,  an 
impure  heart  could  produce  only  impure  affec¬ 
tions.  These  natural  virtues,  then,  demonstrated 
not  to  be  affections  of  a  pure  nature,  and  yet  not 
corresponding  to  the  affections  of  a  vicious  soul, 
cannot  have  root  in  the  spiritual  nature  at  all, 
although  they  serve  many  of  the  same  purposes 
in  human  life.  But  now  the  existence  of  such 
natural  impulses  is  explained  by  the  fact  that 
they  are  necessary  to  the  preservation  of  a  state 
of  things  in  which  the  spiritual  nature  may  have 
a  probation  and  development.  And  the  possi¬ 
bility  of  such  temporary  impulses  from  without 
is  shown  by  an  observation  of  the  instinctive 
affections  of  the  brute  creation,  with  some  of  the 
instincts  which  are  admitted  to  exist  temporarily 
in  the  human  soul.  And  the  conclusion  to  which 
we  are  driven  is,  that  all  these  forms  of  natural 
goodness,  with  their  attendant  rewards  and  sup¬ 
ports,  are  only  substituted  and  temporary  in¬ 
stincts,  into  which  the  pure  affections  may  grow 


RELATION  OF  MORALITY  TO  RELIGION.  163 


and  strengthen,  as  the  bud  within  the  calyx,  un¬ 
til  life  closes,  and  the  instincts  are  withdrawn, 
and  the  pure  heart,  with  its  pure  affections,  needs 
no  more  support ;  or  else  the  doomed  reprobate, 
no  longer  repressed  and  stupified,  wakes  up  to 
the  full  consciousness  of  remorse,  and  the  full 
rage  of  vile  affections. 

"W e  have  witnessed,  along  the  course  of  a  new 
railroad  or  aqueduct,  the  construction  of  an  arch 
over  a  wide  chasm.  "W e  have  seen  a  frame-work 
of  timber  and  iron,  laboriouslv  constructed,  and 
forming  a  perfect  arch,  and  then  above  the  heavy 
beams  stone  after  stone  was  laid,  until  the  key¬ 
stone  was  inserted,  and  the  arch  was  done.  Then 
the  false-work)  as  it  is  termed,  was  taken  down, 
and  the  stone  arch  stood  in  strength  to  bear  the 
burden  of  its  heavy  train  or  volumed  waters. 
Xow,  that  false-work  alone  could  not  bear  the 
burden  that  would  test  it ;  and  yet  that  arch  of 
strength  could  never  have  been  laid  but  over 
that  same  false-work  ;  and  if  the  true  arch  is  not 
laid  in  season,  or  if  it  is,  that  false-work  is  re¬ 
moved  as  useless.  So  this  temporary  system  of 
repression  and  instinctive  impulses,  and  temporal 
rewards  —  this  system,  of  human  morality' — is 
the  false-work  of  the  practical  plan  of  redemp¬ 
tion  ;  the  temporary  arch,  not  strong  enough  to 


164 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


bear  spiritual  tests,  yet  absolutely  requisite  to 
the  formation  of  that  true  holiness  of  principle 
and  affections,  which  may  endure  forever.  This 
false-work  stands  till  death;  then  it  is  taken 
down,  and  leaves,  either  the  spiritual  arch  com¬ 
plete,  or  the  blank  emptiness  of  all  good. 

The  natural  morality  dies  away — the  spiritual 
nature  is  left  in  irrevocable  and  complete  purity 
or  vileness. 


'iu'iio,ioa.c;  Clement  in  Sutural  Mature. 


“  I  have  all  along  gone  on  the  principle,  that  a  man  has 
within  him  capacities  of  growth,  which  deserve  and  will 
reward  intense,  unrelaxing  toil.  I  do  not  look  on  a  human 
being  as  a  machine,  made  to  be  kept  in  action  by  a  foreign 
force,  to  accomplish  an  unvarying  succession  of  motions,  to 
do  a  fixed  amount  of  work,  and  then  to  fall  to  pieces  at 
death;  but  as  a  being  of  free  spiritual  powers. 

Channixg.  Self-Culture, 


Y II. 


THE  RELIGIOUS  ELEMENT  IN  HUMAN  NATURE. 

Artists  keep  their  pictures  from  every  eye  but 
their  own,  until  the  finished  portrait  can  give 
the  complete  impression.  The  writer  cannot  so 
guard  himself  against  a  momentary  prej  udice ; 
for  the  reader’s  eye  is  on  him,  as  chapter  by 
chapter  he  furnishes  the  details  of  separate  fea¬ 
tures,  and  seems  to  neglect  others,  or  to  use  too 
strong  a  colouring.  W e  have  not,  thus  far,  pre¬ 
sented  a  portraiture  of  human  nature.  AVe  have 
only  given  the  background  and  some  shading  of 
its  lineaments.  A  further,  and,  to  some  extent, 
a  more  grateful  task  remains.  The  obj  ect  of  the 
preceding  chapters  has  been  to  set  forth  clearly 
the  startling  fact,  that  the  moralities  and  virtues 
which  adorn  humanity  at  large  can  be  accounted 
for  without  reference  to  any  religious  motives ; 
and  that  they  must  be  so  accounted  for,  as  they 
lack  the  invariable  signs  of  religious  principle. 
But  we  do  not  therefore  deny  that  there  is  a  re¬ 
ligious  element  in  man,  which  may  be  nurtured 


168  NATURAL  GOODNESS. 

and  corrected,  beneath  the  shelter  of  those  infe¬ 
rior  qualities  and  motives.  We  have  shown  that 
men  may,  in  the  exercise  of  an  intelligent  pru¬ 
dence  and  of  merely  instinctive  feelings,  do  much 
to  preserve  and  adorn  society;  hut  man  is  not, 
therefore,  merely  a  compound  of  intellect  and 
instinct — a  mere  intellectual  brute.  He  was 
created  in  the  image  of  his  Maker,  and  his 
spiritual  capabilities ,  however  perverted,  still 
dignify  his  character.  If  it  has  been  a  painful 
dutv  to  brand  as  counterfeit  nearly  every  sem- 
blance  of  virtue  which  is  common  among  men, 
it  is  now  our  privilege  to  point  out  the  true  re¬ 
ligious  element ;  to  show  how  far  those  of  its 
capabilities,  which  are  immortal  as  the  soul 
itself,  need  only  a  right  direction  and  culture, 
and  how  those  powers,  which  may  have  been 
destroyed,  can  be  replaced  by  divine  energy. 
We  wish  to  survey  the  whole  progress  of  mo¬ 
rality,  from  the  point  where  it  is  purely  pruden¬ 
tial  and  instinctive,  to  the  point  where  these 
lower  impulses  are  lost  in  the  growing  strength 
of  a  pure  religious  principle. 

I.  There  are  several  elements  in  the  religious 
constitution  of  man,  which  are  commonly  spoken 
of  as  indicating  a  degree  of  spiritual  health  and 


RELIGIOUS  ELEMENT  IN  HUMAN  NATURE.  169 


rectitude  of  character.  Spiritual  death,  it  is  sup¬ 
posed,  would  involve  their  absence.  Their  ex¬ 
istence  is,  therefore,  held  to  show  that  mankind 
are  not  yet  wholly  lost ;  and  the  degree  of  their 
activity  is  held  to  indicate  the  comparative  res¬ 
toration,  or  yet  unforfeited  and  original  virtue, 
of  the  race.  But  reflection  will  show  us  that 
these  peculiar  faculties  of  the  soul  are  a  part  of 
its  indestructible  constitution,  not  affected  by  sin , 
but  remaining  the  same  in  purity  or  in  guilt,  in 
heaven  or  in  hell. 

1.  Consider,  for  instance,  the  power  of  con¬ 
science.  The  perception  of  the  distinction  be¬ 
tween  right  and  wrong,  involving  the  approval 
of  the  good  and  the  reprobation  of  the  evil,  is  not 
only  the  basis  of  an  angel’s  moral  nature,  but  is 
as  fully  the  inheritance  of  the  fiend  himself. 
Conscience,  as  the  faculty  which  not  only  per¬ 
ceives  moral  distinctions  and  the  fitness  and 
beauty  of  virtue,  but  also  its  absolute  obligation, 
is  not  confined  to  heaven  or  earth,  but  lives  un¬ 
silenced  in  the  depths  of  hell.  Conscience,  es¬ 
pecially,  as  the  executive  authority,  giving  due 
reward  to  moral  action,  wields  the  scourge  over 
the  doomed  spirit,  as  it  crowns  the  blessed  above. 
Bor,  if  there  be  not  a  clear  perception  of  the 
moral  quality  of  actions,  there  can  be  no  clear 


170 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


sense  of  obligation  in  regard  to  past  or  present 
duties.  If  there  be  no  sense  of  obligation,  there 
can  be  no  sense  of  guilt.  If  there  be  no  sense 
of  guilt,  no  punishment  can  be  felt  to  be  deserved 
and  j  ust,  and  suffering  can  only  be  borne  as  ar¬ 
bitrary  persecution  by  God.  Remorse  can  have 
no  existence  except  as  it  realizes  sin.  But  to 
suppose  that  the  lost  angel  or  the  ruined  man, 
has  thus  lost  not  only  his  moral  character,  but  his 
moral  nature  ;  to  suppose  that  if  there  is  a  retri¬ 
bution  for  the  wicked,  none  of  it  can  come 
through  a  sense  of  guilt  and  shame,  but  that  the 
doomed  soul  is  as  unconscious  of  guilt  as  inno¬ 
cence  itself  could  be,  contradicts  our  first  ideas 
of  a  moral  being,  and  of  retribution.  It  would 
entirely  destroy  the  appropriateness  of  a  penalty, 
either  as  strictly  punitive,  because  then  the 
wretch  cannot  comprehend  its  connexion  with 
his  sin;  or  as  disciplinary,  because  it  cannot 
awaken  repentance  for  unconscious  error.  Con¬ 
science,  then,  is  an  indestructible  element  in  our 
nature,  destined  to  live  on  through  every  change 
of  moral  character.  The  sense  of  right  and 
wrong;  the  prompt  approval  of  the  good,  and 
the  stern  rebuke  of  the  evil ;  the  feeling  of  posi¬ 
tive  obligation ;  the  satisfaction  in  virtue,  and 
the  pain  in  sin :  these  are  the  main  arteries  of  a 


RELIGIOUS  ELEMENT  IN  HUMAN  NATURE.  171 

spiritual  being,  whose  involuntary  activity  will 
share  its  immortality.  Whether  the  action  of 
these  faculties  shall  send  through  that  being  a 
thrill  of  healthful  joy,  or  of  fevered  anguish, 
depends  upon  circumstances  apart  from  them¬ 
selves. 

h7ow,  in  this  plain  statement  of  the  indestruc¬ 
tibility  of  conscience,  in  all  its  offices,  lies  the 
explanation  of  much  which  has  been  thought  to 
bear  against  the  doctrine  of  human  depravity. 
Aten  see  that,  under  the  present  constitution  of 
things  this  faculty  is  most  quick  and  powerful  in 
the  holiest  souls,  and  that,  as  a  general  rule,  each 
act  of  resistance  to  its  dictates  deadens  its  sensi¬ 
bility  and  its  authoritative  power.  Under  such 
a  system,  the  utterly  lost  soul  would  feel  no  pang 
and  lose  all  discrimination.  The  existence  of  any 
conscience  seems  to  them,  therefore,  a  proof  that 
man  is  not  utterly  fallen ;  and  the  high  activity 
and  force  of  this  faculty  in  many,  proves  that 
they  are  far,  very  far,  from  total  depravity.  But 
we  have  shown  above  that  this  voice  within  us 
is  really  independent  of  our  moral  character; 
and  that  the  most  depraved,  so  far  as  our  essen¬ 
tial  nature  is  concerned,  may  feel  as  keenly  as 
the  holiest.  We  showed,  in  our  second  essay, 
that  the  fact  that  there  is  any  variation  of  the 


172 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


power  of  conscience,  was  only  a  temporary  ar¬ 
rangement,  and  that  otherwise  all  would  realize 
their  sin  alike.  We  admit,  then,  that  a  veil  is 
placed  before  the  eye  of  conscience  while  we  are 
yet  on  earth ;  and  this  veil  grows  thicker  as  men 
persevere  in  evil.  But  this  variation  of  feeling 
only  shows  that  the  man  has  done  a  certain 
amount  of  sin  since  he  began ;  but  it  does  not 
declare  how  depraved  he  was  at  first,  nor  how 
depraved  he  is  now.  It  only  shows  that  the 
longer  he  remains  in  sin,  during  probation,  the 
weaker  are  his  restraints  and  his  incentives  to 
good.  He  may  have  been  as  constitutionally 
depraved  all  the  while  as  now,  and  God  may 
have  still  chosen  to  offer  salvation,  till  at  length 
he  is  left  to  insensibility.  The  sinner  may  be  no 
worse  in  nature ;  only  he  may  have  persisted  in 
choosing  to  perpetuate  his  state,  and  lost  his 
sensibility  to  sin.  The  original  perception  of 
sinfulness  which  conscience  has,  to  see  sin  as  sin, 
and  right  as  right,  is  an  inalienable  power,  inde¬ 
pendent  of  character ;  and  if  the  full  vision  in  a 
future  state  is  compatible  with  the  worst  deprav¬ 
ity,  these  lower  grades  of  perception,  now  exer¬ 
cised,  cannot  be  inconsistent  with  it.  Therefore, 
the  existence  and  the  power  of  conscience  in 
men  in  general  affords  no  measure  at  all  of  their 


RELIGIOUS  ELEMENT  IN  HUMAN  NATURE.  173 

true  moral  character.  No  matter  how  clear  their 
view  of  duty,  how  strong  the  sense  of  obliga¬ 
tion,  how  painful  the  self-reproach  of  transgres¬ 
sion,  it  cannot  argue  any  religious  position.  We 
may  he  misled  by  thinking  of  the  quickening  of 
conscience  as  a  result  of  God’s  spiritual  and 
remedial  operation.  But  however  other  moral 
phenomena  may  show  a  creative  and  divine 
power ;  and  however  as  men  grow  up  into  God’s 
image,  the  power  of  this  faculty  is  increasingly 
manifested,  yet  it  is  not  by  any  new  creation  or 
awakening  of  a  sense  which  the  soul  has  lost, 
that  God  operates.  The  Spirit  that  convinces 
the  world  of  sin  has  only  need  to  lift  the  mys¬ 
terious  veil  that  He  himself  has,  for  the  time 
being,  thrown  over  the  eye  of  conscience — that 
eye  which  in  its  very  nature  cannot  help  but  see. 
F or  conscience,  solemn  thought !  through  all 
eternity,  has  a  lidless  eye. 

2.  In  connexion  with  this  fact,  it  is  important 
also  to  notice  another.  The  point  may  for  a 
moment  seem  obscure,  and  demand  attention ; 
but  it  will  easily  be  understood,  and  will  save 
from  much  error.  It  is  this — that  in  order  to 
form  an  idea  of  any  principle,  or  sentiment,  or 
affection,  it  is  not  necessary  that  we  should  have 


174 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


experienced  that  sentiment  or  affection.  It  is 
enough  if  we  have  a  capacity  for  those  senti¬ 
ments  and  affections,  and  if  we  have  experienced 
the  opposite  vices  or  virtues  of  feeling.  Each 
right  feeling  or  sentiment  is  the  opposite  of  a 
wrong  one,  and  can  be  understood  and  judged 
of  by  its  opposite.  Love  implies  hatred  as  an 
opposite  sentiment ;  cruelty,  compassion ;  and  for¬ 
giveness,  resentment.  As  the  stamp  or  impres¬ 
sion  is  the  exact  reverse  of  the  seal, — being  hol¬ 
low  where  it  is  elevated,  and  concave  where  it  is 
convex, — so  each  duty  and  each  virtuous  feeling 
gives  the  idea  of  the  vice  which  is  the  reverse. 
Men  who  never  felt  the  sway  of  any  given 
affection  or  principle  may  clearly  understand  it 
in  its  moral  claims,  by  their  experience  of  a  cor¬ 
responding  affection  or  principle.  And  so  soon 
as  we  have  an  idea  of  the  passion  or  sentiment, 
although  we  have  never  yet  felt  it,  so  soon  its 
moral  character  and  claims  are  seen,  and  it  is 
approved  or  rebuked  by  the  conscience.  Thus 
a  soul,  pure  and  unfallen,  may  have  a  clear  con¬ 
ception  of  sin,  and  of  each  particular  evil  passion 
or  principle.  So  it  may  rightly  estimate  the 
character  of  others,  and  so  it  may  intelligently 
be  tempted  itself.  So  the  divine  Man,  Jesus, 
could  comprehend  sinfulness,  and  each  separate 


RELIGIOUS  ELEMENT  IN  HUMAN  NATURE.  175 

sin  of  evil  feeling  or  principle,  although  he  him¬ 
self  had  not  the  slightest  personal  experience  of 
those  sins.  But,  upon  the  same  principle,  a  soul 
impure  and  disobedient  may  have  similar  ideas 
of  the  virtues  which  it  does  not  feel  nor  exercise, 
which  correspond  to  its  own  emptiness  and  sin. 
Blot  out  Satan’s  memory  of  the  past,  and  yet  he 
may  understand  and  appreciate  duty  and  virtue, 
and  every  shade  of  obligation,  even  as  Jesus 
comprehended  each  sin  and  its  guilt.  How  this 
point  is  of  great  importance  to  a  true  estimate 
of  human  nature. 

“All  men,”  says  a  distinguished  Unitarian, 
“know  what  God  requires  of  them,  what  affec¬ 
tions,  what  virtues,  what  graces,  what  emotions 
of  penitence  and  piety.  All  men  have  a  ca¬ 
pacity  for  these  affections,  and  some  exercise  of 
them,  however  slight  and  transient;  and  what 
God  requires  is,  the  culture,  strengthening,  and 
enlargement  of  these  very  affections. 

“For  the  defence  of  this  view,  I  submit  its 
reasonableness, — for,  if  men  do  not  know  what 
religion  is,  they  do  not  know  what  is  required 
of  them.  Again  :  we  could  not  know  what  are 
the  affections  that  are  required  of  us,  unless  it 
were  by  some  experience  of  them.  It  is  philo¬ 
sophically  impossible ;  it  is  in  the  nature  of 


176 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


things  impossible  that  we  should.  Ho  words, 
no  symbols,  could  teach  us  what  moral  and 
spiritual  emotion  is,  unless  we  had,  in  ourselves, 
some  feeling  of  what  it  is,  any  more  than  they 
could  teach  a  deaf  man  what  it  is  to  hear,  or  a 
blind  man  what  it  is  to  see.  Excellence,  holi¬ 
ness,  justice,  disinterestedness,  love,  are  words 
which  never  could  have  any  meaning  to  us,  if 
the  originals ,  the  germs  of  those  qualities,  were 
not  within  us.r* 

If  this  were  so,  it  would  logically  follow,  that 
these  germs  are  the  religious  character — the  true 
religious  principle — already  formed  within  every 
heart.  Human  nature,  therefore,  could  not  be 
utterly  depraved,  indeed  not  depraved  at  all, 
only  weak  and  to  be  developed.  It  needs  no 
new  creation  of  principle  and  affection,  but  only 
a  culture  of  what  is  there  already.  But,  now, 
if  all  these  right  principles  and  affections  can 
be  understood  without  anv  exercise  of  them — if, 
just  as  Jesus  could  comprehend  the  malignity 
of  which  he  never  had  the  slightest  exercise,  so 
an  evil  spirit  may  comprehend  holy  affections 
which  it  has  never  exercised — then  the  sinner 
may  comprehend  the  duties  and  the  affections 

3  Dewey’s  Discourses  on  “  Human  Life,”  &c.  Italics  our 
own. 


RELIGIOUS  ELEMENT  IN  HUMAN  NATURE.  177 

required  of  him,  although  he  has  not  even  the 
feeble  exercise,  “  the  originals,  the  germs  of  those 
qualities,5'  within  him.  It  is  a  clear  perception 
possessed,  not  only  by  a  holy  soul,  but  by  any  soul. 

Thus,  then,  the  clearest  conceptions  of  various 
spiritual  affections  imply  no  experience  of  them, 
and  the  highest  sense  of  then*  moral  obligation 
shows  only  that  the  lidless  eye  of  conscience  sees 
the  truth. 

3.  The  constitutional  activity  of  conscience, 
and  the  power  to  recognise  and  conceive  clearly 
principles  and  affections,  however  diverse  they 
may  be  from  our  own  moral  character,  involves 
another  capability  of  human  nature.  Distinct 
from  the  obligation  and  authoritative  power  of 
virtue,  is  its  moral  beauty,  its  intrinsic  loveli¬ 
ness.  There  is  an  excellence,  a  fitness,  a  corre¬ 
spondence  to  the  highest  demands  of  the  soul, 
which  commends  itself  at  once  to  the  heart. 
Even  if  duty  were  not  duty,  it  would  still  be 
privilege.  If  all  penalty  were  gone,  and  all 
moral  constraint  removed,  still  would  the  heart 
feel  that  purity  alone  is  high  and  honourable, 

and  worthy  the  enthusiasm  of  a  noble  soul : 
«/ 

and  accordance  with  its  dictates  not  only  leaves 

12 


178 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


a  sense  of  satisfied  and  appeased  law,  bnt  a  glow 
of  elevated  delight.  This  moral  beauty  bears  a 
relation  to  moral  obligation  similar  to  that  which 
the  grace  and  finish  of  an  exquisite  machine  bear 
to  its  mathematical  adaptation  for  utility.  If  it 
wTere  not  serviceable,  it  would  vet  be  beautiful. 
And  with  a  high  reverence  we  may  say  that 
the  perception  and  expression  of  this  quality 
constitutes  the  poetry  of  virtue— -the  sentiment 
of  religion. 

Aow,  what  we  mean  to  say  is,  that  this  sense 
of  the  beauty  of  holiness  does  not  require  any 
moral  purity,  any  love  of  holiness  for  its  exer¬ 
cise.  It  is  an  involuntary,  constitutional,  and 
indestructible  capacity,  like  the  sense  of  the 
mere  obligation  of  duty.  It  is  the  heritage  alike 
of  heaven  and  of  hell.  The  pure  angelic  eye 
sees  this  moral  loveliness  resting  like  a  glory  on 
the  sublime  summits  of  heroic  duties,  and  on 
every  flower  of  feeling  it  hangs  trembling  like 
the  dew.  The  irrecoverable  soul  feels  not  alone 
the  stern  condemnation  of  his  sin ;  but  is  sickened 
a  sense  of  unworthiness,  and  deformity, 

“  And  self-contempt,  bitterer  to  drink  than  blood.” 

We  are  not  speculating  rashly.  Every-day 
life  presents  illustrations  that  ask  no  flight  of 


RELIGIOUS  ELEMENT  IN  HUMAN  NATURE.  179 

fancy, — cases  so  clear  and  indisputable,  that  they 
cover  all  the  more  obscure  instances  beside  them. 
They  show  that  to  perceive  the  worth  and  excel¬ 
lence  of  purity  is  not  to  love  it,  for  to  love  it 
would  be  to  seek  its  possession  and  to  promote 
its  growth.  They  prove  that  this  poetic  sensi¬ 
bility  to  moral  beauty  is  an  endowment  given 
naturally,  and  in  very  different  degrees  to  va¬ 
rious  hearts  ;  and  that  so  far  from  indicating  any 
love  of  purity,  the  sense  of  moral  obligation  is 
often  strongest  where  there  is  least  of  this  sense 
of  loveliness,  and  the  poetic  rapture  is  often 
most  exquisite  where  the  moral  sense  of  obliga¬ 
tion  is  least  oppressive.  The  writings  of  genius 
are,  indeed,  filled  with  noble  tributes  to  vir¬ 
tue.  It  has  delighted  to  blazon  her  glories 
and  to  depict  her  struggles ;  to  portray  the 
splendid  energy  with  which  she  repels  the  base 
insinuation — the  meek  endurance  with  which 
she  bears  oppression  and  destitution — the  fear¬ 
ful  crisis,  when,  forsaken,  urged  to  evil,  almost 
overcome,  she  yet  rises,  and  triumphs,  and  wears 
a  fadeless  crown.  Fiction  and  poetry  have  given 
splendid  panegyrics,  and  then  writers,  and  poets 
too,  have  shown  how  abstract  their  real  admira¬ 
tion  was,  how  reckless  their  actual  tone  of  feel¬ 
ing.  They  have  seemed  to  feel  as  though  they 


180 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


could  gain  their  faithfulness  of  colouring  only  by 
witnessing  the  reality  of  her  trials,  and,  like  the 
old  painter  whose  magic  pencil  sought  to  depict 
the  writhings  of  Prometheus  upon  the  rock,  they 
bind  living  virtue  to  the  rack ;  they  watch  her 
agonies,  and  dip  their  pencil  in  the  blood,  and 
tears,  and  death-dews  that  they  picture.  Think 
of  Bulwer,  and  Shelley,  and  Byron,  and  the  many 
of  polluted  genius,  who  have  sent  forth  the 
praises  of  virtue,  and  many  a  holy  strain,  from 
dens  of  debauchery  and  blasphemy,  and  say, 
Had  they  a  love  for  purity?  Yet  they  saw  and 
spoke  the  beauty  of  holiness.  They  gazed  in 
the  pause  of  passion,  and  admired  and  sung  her 
chaste  loveliness,  and  then  turned  to  wanton 
with  the  deformed  vices,  that  but  now  were  so 
despised. 

It  is  not  for  such  men  that  we  are  writing ; 
but  we  allude  to  them  to  show  conclusively  that 
the  highest  poetic  sensibility  to  the  charms  of 
rectitude  may  be  purely  constitutional ;  and  that 
it  indicates  no  earnest  sensibility  to  the  obliga¬ 
tion  of  virtue,  and  no  love  of  rectitude  at  all. 
Yet  the  moral  man,  especially  if  highly  cul¬ 
tured,  and  of  a  poetic  sensibility  to  all  beauty 
of  nature,  or  sentiment,  or  morals,  is  apt  to  feel 
a  peculiar  satisfaction  and  sense  of  security  in 


RELIGIOUS  ELEMENT  IN  HUMAN  NATURE.  181 

this  aesthetic  feeling.  He  is  apt  to  argue  from 
it  his  advancement  in  virtuous  character.  He 
is  prone  to  conclude  that  this  feeling,  clothing 
his  acts  of  rectitude,  proves  them  to  be  no  com¬ 
pulsory  or  interested  duties.  Alas,  holiness  is 
lovely!  but  its  loveliness  is  not  more  clearly 
seen  by  the  eye  of  that  pure  moralist,  than  by 
many  an  eye  from  which  gleam  out  the  passions 
that  would  make  a  hell  on  earth !  He  needs  a 
higher  criterion  to  test  his  spiritual  worth,  and 
his  acceptability  to  GocL 

II.  "W e  proceed  to  notice  the  religious  elements 
in  human  nature,  which  are  not  thus  indestruc¬ 
tible  ;  which  need  the  restoring  energy  of  God 
to  bring  back  their  wonted  action  ;  and  whose 
vigour  and  perfection,  therefore,  do  show  the 
presence  of  true  and  efficient  religion. 

1.  ATe  notice  briefly  the  moral  sensibilities — 
all  those  affections  and  impulses  which  are  felt 
to  possess  a  virtuous  or  unholy  attribute.  And, 
according  to  the  teaching  of  Scripture,  there  can 
be  no  doubt  that  ail  the  unholy  and  impure  sen¬ 
timents  are  attributed  to  the  heart  as  it  is  bv  na- 

c / 

ture,  and  all  pure  and  lovely  principles  and 
qualities  are  claimed  as  the  exclusive  products 


182 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


of  the  Holy  Ghost  in  its  restoring  power.  We 
have  shown,  in  the  first  part  of  the  last  essay, 
that  tins  association  of  pure  earthly  affections 
and  sentiments  with  the  one  supreme  love  of 
holiness  and  of  God,  and  this  idea  of  the  inva¬ 
riable  connexion  of  the  loss  of  that  holv  love 

t j 

with  the  loss  of  every  pure  relative  affection,  are 
sanctioned  by  the  general  sentiment  of  mankind, 
and  by  the  philosophical  relation  of  these  senti¬ 
ments.  We  argued  that  the  unholy  soul  could 
have  no  such  virtues,  as  the  holy  soul  must  have 
them.  We  argued  that  the  one  underlying  prin¬ 
ciple  being  rectified,  all  would  be  restored — as 
the  purified  and  filtered  stream  that  presses 
through  the  rock,  far  below  the  surface,  will  well 
up  sweetly  through  a  hundred  various  springs. 
And  we  say  explicitly,  that  the  various  amiable 
and  noble  qualities  which  should  adorn  human 
nature  never  can  adorn  it,  except  by  the  power 
of  renovating  grace.  For  we  proved  that  the 
natural  qualities  commonly  called  virtues,  were 
mere  spurious,  substituted,  temporary  things, — 
mere  bracings  to  uphold  this  life,  until  the  true 
pillars  of  the  soul  should  rise.  And  the  growth 
of  the  true  virtues,  the  holy  branches  of  a  holy 
love,  is  a  consequence  and  a  token  of  the  regen¬ 
erating  influence  of  grace  upon  the  heart. 


RELIGIOUS  ELEMENT  IE  HUHAE  EATTJRE.  183 

It  mar  be  worth  while  here  to  observe  how 

d 

the  sentiments  of  the  Church,  or  at  least  of  prom¬ 
inent  writers  on  this  subject,  have  in  modern 
times  arisen  and  varied.  Bishop  Butler  lived  at 
a  time  when  there  was  not  only  little  religion, 
but  hardlv  anv  morality.  Even  outward  recti- 
tude  was  a  plain  separation  from  the  world. 
Few  experiences  were  there  of  that  spiritual 
power,  which  infused  new  principles  and  affec¬ 
tions,  and  extirpated  the  evil.  It  seemed  enough 
if  a  man  could  regulate  his  sentiments  and  de¬ 
sires,  and  repress  the  action  of  the  passions. 
Every  natural  feeling  was  supposed  to  be  part 
of  the  originallv  designed  constitution  of  man. 
Regulation,  that  is,  culture,  became  religion; 
and  Butler’s  theorv  has  been  very  easilv  turned 
to  Unitarian  purposes.  He  held  all  natural  sen¬ 
timents  to  have  a  religious  value,  if  they  were 
only  in  proper  degree  and  cooperation. 

Dr.  Chalmers  lived  under  an  outpouring  of 
spiritual  influences.  He  felt  that  the  religious 
principle  differed  in  kind  from  anything  in  the 
natural  man ;  that  it  involved  a  love  to  God  and 
to  holiness  which  had  no  germ  in  the  unregen¬ 
erate  soul,  but  must  be  infused.  However,  there¬ 
fore,  the  natural  sentiments  might  stand  in  due 
proportion,  by  nature  or  by  culture,  he  felt  that 


184 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


since  they  could  exist  without  that  infused  prin¬ 
ciple,  they  had  no  religions  nature.  Chalmers 
rested  on  the  idea  that  the  historical  virtues, 
although  not  religious,  were  nevertheless  the  orig¬ 
inal  sentiments  and  principles  of  human  nature. 

But  at  the  present  time,  especially  through 
the  writings  of  those  who  would  prove  the  true 
religious  character  of  natural  virtue,  attention  is 
directed  to  the  fact  that  true  piety  to  God,  and 
true  virtue  toward  man,  can  only  proceed  from 
the  same  principle,  and  are  always  found  to¬ 
gether.  If  the  tree  he  good,  the  fruit  also  will  he 
good.  If,  therefore,  these  natural  virtues  are 
religious,  there  must  he  a  religious  principle  at 
work.  If  there  is  no  religious  principle,  hut 
total  depravity  of  principle,  where  is  the  natu¬ 
rally  expected  fruit  of  every  vile  sentiment  and 
passion  ?  The  question  is  serious,  and  demands 
an  answer.  We  can  only  sav,  the  evil  is  re- 
pressed,  and  show  why;  and  then  show  also 
how  these  better  traits  are  not  our  original  and 
immortal  qualities,  hut  temporary  instincts  im¬ 
pressed  on  the  soul.  The  true  spiritual  affec¬ 
tions  and  principles — true  integrity,  and  benev¬ 
olence,  and  love — are  to  he  a  new  creation, 
developed  beneath  the  shelter  of  these  instinc¬ 
tive  virtues. 


RELIGIOUS  ELEMENT  IN  HUMAN  NATURE.  185 

2.  But  the  crowning  element  in  the  perfect 
moral  nature  is  the  moral  freedom  of  the  will, 
in  its  ability  to  choose  the  good  and  to  rej  ect  the 
evil.  W e  would  avoid  controversial  expressions ; 
but  we  may  say  that  in  a  depraved  nature,  the 
will  is  so  diseased,  that  it  does  not  follow  the 
clearest  convictions  of  duty  or  of  interest.  It 
chooses  evil,  even  when  it  perceives  both  its  sin¬ 
fulness  and  its  folly :  and  in  a  totally  depraved 
heart  it  is  safe  to  say,  that  there  would  not  be 
the  first  impulse  toward  good,  as  good,  which 
could  be  cultivated  by  the  law  of  habit  into  a 
moral  power.  A  will  so  strangely  perverted, 
can  be  reached  only  by  the  mysterious  and  crea¬ 
tive  energy  of  God. 

Aow  it  is  this  imbecility,  and  bias  of  the  will 
to  evil,  which,  with  the  corruption  of  the  affec¬ 
tions,  constitute  the  depravity,  actual  and  total, 
of  the  human  heart.  It  is  the  consciousness  of 
this  depravity  of  the  will  and  the  affections,  in 
connexion  with  a  consciousness  of  the  obliga¬ 
tion  and  beauty  of  holiness,  which  renders  the 
doomed  soul  wretched,  and  might  “  make  a  hell 
of  heaven. There  is  perhaps  no  earthly  suffer¬ 
ing  more  intense  than  that  of  the  lunatic  whose 
spells  of  criminal  and  debasing  passion  come  on 
so  violently  as  to  override  all  sense  of  rectitude 


186 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


or  decency,  and  yet  leave  the  wretched  victim 
with  an  under-consciousness  of  the  purity  and 
goodness  which  he  violates.  Yet  he  may  feel 
that  it  is  but  a  temporary  delirium — a  physical 
derangement.  But  to  wake  up  to  the  dread 
reality  of  intrinsic  pollution  and  vileness — to 
realize  the  loveliness  of  virtue  and  the  shame  of 
vice,  and  yet  feel  the  heart  pressing  onward  to 
new  defilement — to  feel  evermore  the  circling 
eddy  carry  us  deeper  and  deeper  into  the  mael¬ 
strom  of  moral  shame,  and  yet  look  up  to  the 
clear  heavens  that  smile  on  all  above  the  dread 
vortex — this,  this  is  the  completed  curse  ! 

Therefore  all  the  machinery  of  our  probation¬ 
ary  state  would  be  useless,  if  the  will  were  left 
to  itself.  There  would  be  no  spot  on  which  to 
plant  the  lever  of  moral  reformation.  And 
therefore  it  is  with  the  will,  especially,  of  any 
human  heart  that  the  grace  of  God  must  deal, 
before  it  can  avail  itself  of  the  provisions  of  the 
scheme  of  redemption.  It  is  not  that  divine 
power  should  sway  the  will  to  holiness ;  but  that 
once  more  it  has  the  power  to  choose  bondage, 
or  to  choose  a  perfect  freedom.  It  is  not  need¬ 
ful  to  probation  that  the  grace  of  God  should 
give  the  will  a  power  to  overcome  the  greater 
evils  and  strongest  temptations.  If  the  rigour 


RELIGIOUS  ELEMEXT  IK  HUMAN  KATUEE.  187 

of  its  bondage  be  so  relaxed  that  it  can  even 
struggle  in  its  chains,  it  is  sufficient — if  it  can 
but  seek  help  from  God,  it  is  enough.  And  thus 
far  the  grace  of  God  appears,  from  reason  and 
from  Scripture,  to  be  given  to  ever j  man,  so  that 
he  can  resist  the  sin  that  overcomes  him,  and 
look  up  to  a  divine  helper.  In  answer  to  his 
prayer  help  will  come.  To  offer  salvation  to  a 
soul  without  such  preparatory  grace,  would  be 
like  holding  out  the  cup  of  life  to  a  corpse  en¬ 
dowed  with  a  consciousness  of  its  death ;  it  would 

be  mockerv  to  the  stiffened  form  that  could  not 
«/ 

take  it:  but  Jesus  touches  the  lips  of  each  soul 
for  whom  he  died  with  that  cup  of  salvation, 
and  the  slight  quickening  enables  the  sinner  to 
take  the  fulness  of  his  offer,  or,  rejecting  it,  to 
sink  back  to  irrecoverable  death. 

AYe  have  thus  reached  a  point  from  which  we 
may  form  a  full  estimate  of  the  position  of  moral 
men,  as  distinguished  from  religious  men.  Thev 
are  beings  entering  upon  existence  with  a  de¬ 
praved  moral  nature,  but  entering  upon  a  pro¬ 
bationary  state,  in  which  that  nature  may  be 
purified  for  eternity.  Their  evil  impulses  are 
repressed  and  partially  concealed.  They  have, 
for  the  present,  instinctive  sentiments  and  affec- 


188 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


tions,  which,  in  the  absence  of  true  and  pure 
principles,  may  secure  continued  life,  and  oppor¬ 
tunities  for  thought  and  consideration  of  their 
great  spiritual  interests.  The  temporal  blessings 
and  trials  of  life  are,  for  the  present,  distributed 
so  as  to  lend  added  force  to  these  good  natural 
dispositions.  While  the  sense  of  sin  and  danger 
is  not  permitted  to  overwhelm  them,  yet  the 
indestructible  conscience,  with  subdued  tone, 
speaks  of  duty  and  of  sin,  of  heaven  and  of  hell, 
of  the  purity  they  may  yet  attain,  and  the  moral 
beauty  which  may  adorn  them.  Revelation 
comes  in  to  let  them  know  of  the  truths  which 
it  would  destroy  them  to  realize.  God  gives  by 
his  spiritual  energy  a  power  to  seek  his  help — 
that  the  will  may  be  free  from  its  bondage,  and 
the  debased  affections  be  made  holy  and  blessed. 

Thus  much  God  does  for  the  moral  man — 
without  his  own  agency  or  his  own  consent. 
Whether  he  will  become  a  religious  man  or  not, 
depends  upon  himself.  God  will  do  nothing 
more  for  him — unless  he  seeks  for  more  in  God’s 
appointed  way.  If  he  avail  himself  of  his  privi¬ 
leges,  it  is  well ;  if  not,  the  temporary  restraints 
shall  be  removed,  and  he  shall  be  left  to  unre¬ 
pressed,  unveiled  depravity  forever. 


VIII. 


oligious  |f  jrasos  of 

Conviction, 


“I  have  heard  of  thee  by  the  hearing  of  the  ear;  but  now 
mine  eye  seeth  thee:  wherefore  I  abhor  myself, \  and  repent 
in  dust  and  ashes.77 


Job  xlii,  5,  6. 


Yin. 


PECULIAR  PHASES  OF  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE— 

CONVICTION. 

The  grandest  spectacle  which  the  universe  affords 
is  that  of  a  ruined  spirit  reassnming  its  pristine 
purity  and  power.  It  is  the  resurrection  of  the 
soul — the  moment  when  its  corruptible  puts  on 
incorruption.  Such  a  transition  not  only  enlists 
the  sympathies  of  a  seraphic  devotion,  but  may 
well  rivet  the  attention  of  any  thoughtful  mind. 
The  purely  scientific  gaze  which  wanders  through 
creation,  watching  with  reverential  enthusiasm 
the  gradual  development  of  material  forces,  from 
the  faint  glimmering  of  the  floating  star-dust, 
to  the  full  beauty  of  an  organized  and  furnished 
world,  finding  at  each  step  the  reward  of  some 
clearer  reflection  of  Him  in  whom  they  live,  and 
move,  and  have  their  being,  cannot  he  insensi¬ 
ble  to  the  breathless  interest  of  that  hour,  when 
the  denizen  of  one  of  the  least  of  all  these  rolling 
orbs,  outcast  and  reckless  in  his  treason,  is  brought 
face  to  face  with  the  Almighty,  is  forgiven  and 


192 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


transformed,  and  made  a  partaker  of  the  divine 
nature.  How  thrilling  to  watch  the  momentary 
changes  by  which  that  spirit,  under  the  benig¬ 
nant  smile  of  reconciliation,  loses  the  image  of 
the  earthly,  and  wears  the  image  of  the  heav¬ 
enly  !  But  when  we  know  that  upon  the  promp¬ 
titude  and  completeness  of  that  transformation 
in  this  brief  life  depends  the  destiny  of  all  the 
undying  future ;  when  this  fleeting  hour  concen¬ 
trates  within  itself  all  the  eternal  possibilities  of 
blessing  or  of  anguish ;  the  history  of  the  soul  for 
that  one  hour  is  its  history  forever,  and  we  can¬ 
not  leave  its  slightest  event  unstudied  and  unap¬ 
preciated.  W e  would  watch  the  processes  of  the 
new  creation — the  gradual  glow  and  quivering  of 
life  upon  the  countenance  of  the  corpse-like  soul. 

And  here  again  it  is  that  the  true  character 
and  relations  of  moral  men  in  the  higher  stages 
of  their  experience  acquire  an  absorbing  interest. 
The  well-defined  extremes  of  character,  in  those 
who  people  the  acknowledged  realm  of  Satan,  or 
dwell  in  the  kingdom  of  God,  awake  less  inter¬ 
est,  as  their  fate  is  recognised  at  once ;  but  these 
dwellers  upon  neutral  ground  —  these  wander¬ 
ers  on  the  border-land  of  heaven — swaying  be¬ 
tween  safety  and  perdition,  awake  the  interest  of 
suspense,  and  of  many  a  baffled  effort  to  alarm 


RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE - CONVICTION.  193 


them.  Is  there  a  point  within  the  line  which  we 
have  deemed  the  boundary  of  sin,  where  in  truth 
they  are  secure  of  heaven — who  would  needlessly 
awaken  their  fears  ?  Are  they  unsafe — who  would 
let  them  be  deceived  ?  The  phases,  therefore,  of 
an  incipient  and  incomplete  religious  experience 
— the  processes  through  which  the  new  life  is 
attained — -the  intermingling  light  and  shade, 
which  flicker  along  the  horizon  ere  yet  the  day¬ 
spring  from  on  high  bursts  on  the  benighted 
spirit — this  is  our  theme. 


The  earliest  spiritual  exercises  which  mark  the 
entrance  upon  a  definite  religious  experience,  are 
the  feelings  which  are  awakened  in  view  of  the 
fact  which  lies  at  the  basis  of  all  religious  effort — ■ 
the  fact  of  our  own  depravity.  It  can  only  be 
from  a  sense  of  its  vileness,  its  guilt,  and  its 
weakness,  that  the  startled  spirit  will  ever  seek 
for  purity,  and  pardon,  and  divine  assistance. 
However  the  prodigal  may,  all  unconsciously  to 
himself,  have  been  strengthened  for  his  home¬ 
ward  journey,  no  returning  step  will  bear  him 
onward,  until  he  “come  to  himself,”  and  feel 
sadly  and  wistfully  the  contrast  between  his 
dreary  lot  and  the  fulness  of  his  father’s  house. 

Even  among  the  nations  upon  whom  the  truru- 

13 


194 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


pet  tones  of  revelation  have  not  thundered  the 
perfect  law  and  its  deepest  curse,  the  smothered 
voice  of  conscience  hears  witness  to  the  common 
doom.  Yet,  as  we  briefly  illustrated  in  the 
earlier  pages  of  this  volume,  it  is  only  as  the 
consciousness  of  sin  can  be  relieved  by  the  reve- 

4/ 

lation  of  a  satisfying  atonement  and  a  purifying 
spirit,  that  the  full  sense  of  evil  and  of  its  desert 
is  imparted.  The  heathen  world,  therefore,  has 
but  an  imperfect  and  vague  perception  of  the 
moral  debasement  which  crushes  it.  Its  relig¬ 
ious  observances  spring  rather  from  an  undefined 
apprehension  of  vengeance  wreaked  by  an  arbi¬ 
trary  power,  than  from  any  recognition  of  the 


intrinsic  “  sinfulness  of  sin.”  Its  millions  suffer 
much  from  fear,  but  little  from  remorse.  The 
soul  naturally  recoils  from  the  revelation  of  its 
own  pollution,  and  fixes  its  resolute  attention 
upon  the  less  harrowing  toils  or  follies  of  this 
life.  So  that  where  the  institutions  of  revealed 
religion  are  not  perpetually  compelling  reflec¬ 
tion,  the  habitually  averted  eye  of  conscience 
sees  but  dimly,  if  at  all,  the  evils  of  the  heart. 
The  superstitions  which  have  been  created  by 
this  very  wilful  ness  of  self-deluding  yet  unsatis¬ 
fied  consciousness  serve  but  to  confirm  the  error, 
and  destroy  a  true  sense  of  moral  guilt,  by  direct- 


RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE - CONVICTION. 


195 


mg  attention  only  to  tlie  outward  act,  or  by 
proposing,  as  a  propitiation,  some  easy  offering 
which  of  itself  atones.  Yet  still  the  literature 
of  antiquity,  and  the  missionary  observations  of 
the  present,  alike  assure  us  that  a  sullen,  brood¬ 
ing  under-consciousness  of  sin,  and  guilt,  and 
danger,  gleaming  out  at  times  into  clearer  Hashes 
of  conviction,  is  the  common  inheritance  of  all 
men. 

But  just  in  proportion  as  the  light  of  revealed 
truth  shines  through  a  community,  and  a  pure 
Christian  example  exhibits  a  lofty  and  spiritual 
virtue,  and  thus  demonstrates  its  existence  and 
attainability  bevond  cavil,  the  natural  conscious- 
ness  of  evil,  and  of  an  obligation  to  perfect  holi¬ 
ness.  forces  itself  upon  every  heart.  The  clear  in¬ 
tellectual  conviction,  at  least,  cannot  be  put  away. 
An  evil  heart,  turning  from  unwelcome  truths, 
and  burying  its  thoughts  in  business  or  dissipa¬ 
ting  them  in  pleasure,  may  not  seem  to  believe 
the  stern  language  of  Scripture ;  but  the  smoth¬ 
ered  cries  of  conscience,  the  superstitious  dread 
and  self-condemnation  which  cowers  beneath 
calamity  as  a  just  retribution,  and  that  abject 
fear  which  dares  not  think  on  death,  all  bear  wit¬ 
ness  that  the  soul  does  know  its  guilt  and  dan¬ 
ger,  and  that  it  persists  in  sin  and  shuts  out 


196 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


clear  conviction,  only  because  it  chooses  to  be 
defiled. 

Especially  in  the  hearts  of  those  who  habitu¬ 
ally  listen  to  the  faithful  declarations  of  the  pul¬ 
pit,  this  sense  of  wickedness  and  exposure  to  a 
future  curse  becomes  vivid  and  irrepressible. 
Sabbath  after  Sabbath  it  is  deepened  impercep¬ 
tibly  ;  and  ever  and  anon  some  peculiar  utter¬ 
ance  of  truth  seizes  the  soul,  and  shoots  through 
it  a  fearful,  sinking,  sickening  consciousness  of 
sin  and  peril.  The  Holy  Spirit  has  left  the  heart 
thus  partially  sensitive,  and  at  all  times  suscepti¬ 
ble  to  the  varvino-  influence  of  various  truths  and 

CD 


of  chano’ms;  circumstances.  Sometimes  it  sud- 
denlv  removes  vet  more  of  the  lethargv  which 
benumbs  the  soul ;  and  multitudes  who  listened 
with  but  a  subdued  shame  and  purpose  of  amend¬ 
ment,  at  once  awake  to  a  new  vividness  of  ap¬ 
prehension,  and  a  new  energy  of  resolution. 

The  ITolv  Spirit  is  certainlv  not  limited  to  any 
regular  instrumentalities,  nor  to  any  peculiar 
manifestations,  in  his  work  of  convincing  men  of 

J  CD 

sin,  and  of  righteousness,  and  of  adjudgment  to 
come.  The  wind  bloweth  where  it  listetli.  And 
vet,  amid  all  the  endless  varieties  observable  in 
early  religious  experience,  it  may  be  that  the 
self-same  Spirit,  which  worketh  all  in  all,  ob- 


RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE - CONVICTION.  197 


serves  some  principle  of  uniformity  in  his  opera¬ 
tion;  and  a  reverential  attention  to  this  per¬ 
vading  unity  cannot  he  improper.  We  may 
distinguish  that  which  is  essential  in  a  true  ex- 
perience  from  that  which  is  purely  adventitious. 
For,  however  the  peculiarity  of  many  divine 
manifestations  to  those  whom  the  Spirit  is  lead- 
ing  to  redemption  is  felt  to  have  no  explanation, 
except  in  his  own  wise  choice  of  action,  apart 
from  any  influence  of  the  means  employed ;  vet 
the  individual  characteristics  of  temperament 
and  habit,  and  the  natural  influence  of  varied 
circumstances  are  usually  apparent.  A  consid¬ 
eration  of  these  may  explain  many  seeming 
anomalies  in  Christian  experience,  and  may  pre¬ 
vent  us  from  forming  a  false  standard  of  a  sensi¬ 
ble  experiences,”  either  for  ourselves  or  others. 

Consider,  for  instance,  that  law  of  our  mental 
constitution  which  regulates  the  tide  of  emotion  in 
its  resistless  how,  and  in  its  subsiding  gentleness, 
when  any  truth  or  fact  appeals  to  the  sensibili¬ 
ties.  Observe  the  heart  just  startled  by  the 
shadow  of  some  approaching  calamity,  bereave¬ 
ment,  or  disgrace,  or  utter  destitution  ;  or  watch 
the  fluctuating  feelings  when  another's  sorrow 
appeals  to  sympathy,  or  another’s  excellence 
awakes  our  admiration.  In  every  case  we  recog- 


198 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


nise  this  rule,  that  emotion  is  strongest  when  the 
truth  is  first  seen  in  its  f  ull  vividness ,  and  that 
it  dies  away  into  a  subdued  sensibility  when  the 
first  shock  is  over.  Amid  the  horrors  of  a  siege, 
or  the  protracted  dangers  of  the  plague,  men 
speak  calmly  and  stoically  of  fearful  things 
whose  first  approach  convulsed  them  with  terror. 
Then,  if  the  subdued  emotion  is  to  he  again 
aroused,  it  must  he  by  some  more  vivid  presen¬ 
tation  of  the  coming  cruelties,  or  the  heart  must 
he  riveted  on  some  new  feature  of  the  great  sor¬ 
row  ;  or,  after  having  sunk  beneath  the  strain 
of  feeling  until  the  weary  heart  had  almost  for¬ 
got  its  fate,  it  must  wake  up  anew  to  see  all  it 
saw  before.  Tlius  it  is  only  as  a  fresh  appeal  is 
made,  and  while  yet  it  has  the  force  of  novelty, 
that  deep  emotion  is  to  be  expected.  So  also  it 
may  be  that  an  emotion,  entirely  distinct  from 
the  one  great  feeling  which  has  been  aroused 
and  subdued,  may  be  stirred  by  casual  circum¬ 
stances  ;  and  the  heart,  thus  approached  from 
another  side,  and  charmed  into  a  tender  mood, 
has  a  fresh  sensibility  to  even  the  old  appeal, 
which  had  seemed  to  lose  its  power. 

There  is  an  analogy  in  the  exercises  of  our 
hearts,  in  view  of  the  great  truths  of  sin  and  retri¬ 
bution.  When,  for  the  first  time,  the  soul  clearly 


RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE - CONVICTION.  199 


apprehends  these  tremendous  truths,  the  natural 
probabilities  are  that  the  sudden  shock  of  guilty 
shame  and  fear  will  be  overwhelming ;  but 
when  the  solemn  vision  grows  familiar,  or  when 
it  has  been  gradually  and  by  slow  glimmerings 
disclosed  to  the  instructed  mind,  the  natural 
result  will  be  a  subdued,  almost  unnoticed  feel¬ 
ing,  while  the  clear  conviction  remains  per- 
manentlv.  In  those  notable  instances  in  the 
history  of  wide-spread  reformations  where  the 
general  feeling  has  been  most  pungent,  and  the 
physical  effects  of  emotion  most  remarkable,  is 
it  not  usually  observable  that  a  previous  defi¬ 
ciency  in  religious  instruction,  or  an  imperfectly- 
exhibited  orthodoxy,  had  left  the  general  mind 
without  familiaritv  with  these  great  truths,  and 
thus  the  earnest  utterance  of  them  hashed  a 
new  idea,  like  sheet-lightning,  over  men’s  hearts  ? 
But  where  the  Church  has  trained  up  her  con¬ 
gregations  from  childhood,  and  line  upon  line  and 
precept  upon  precept  have  gradually  dawned 
upon  the  mind,  then,  in  the  absence  of  any  ad¬ 
ventitious,  exciting  influences,  such  overwhelm¬ 
ing  emotions  are  not  the  rule.  The  same  prin¬ 
ciple  may  be  observed  in  the  case  of  separate 
congregations,  or  even  of  individuals.  The  Sab¬ 
bath-breaker,  who  straggles  into  a  church,  may 


200 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


be  confounded  at  the  utterance  of  truths  to  which, 
in  all  their  freshness  and  force,  his  conscience 
bears  witness ;  while  those  who  habitually  listen 
to  those  same  utterances  are  not  at  all  excited, 
however  thoroughly  convinced.  Xor  let  it  be 
imagined  that  thus  the  vicious  have  an  advan¬ 
tage  over  those  more  observant  of  the  means  of 
grace ;  for  the  open  neglecter  is  generally  so  sur¬ 
rounded  by  evil  associations  difficult  to  break, 
that  he  needs  a  pungent  and  startling  view  to 
give  him  an  equal  vantage-ground  with  those  to 
whom  the  form  and  opportunity  of  godliness  are 
already  familiar,  and  who  need  only  to  ask  its 
acknowledged  power. 

We  said  also  that  the  constitutional  tempera¬ 
ment  might  vary  the  form  of  religions  expe¬ 
rience.  We  habitually  see  how,  under  the  same 
circumstances,  and  beneath  the  pressure  of  the 
same  motives,  and  even  with  the  same  ultimate 
action,  men  of  different  temperaments  differ  in 
the  intensity  of  their  emotions,  in  the  vividness 
of  their  conception  of  the  same  truth,  and  in  the 
method  of  their  action.  While  some  are  con¬ 
founded,  frenzied,  or  convulsive,  in  their  excited 
language  or  gesture,  others  are  made  sternly 
calm,  and  only  speak  in  a  more  measured  tone, 
and  act  with  more  deliberation.  All  may  see 


RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE - CONVICTION.  201 


alike,  may  feel  the  same  kind  of  appropriate 
sentiment,  and  take  the  same  steps  ;  but  the 
intensity  of  feeling,  the  hurry  and  throng  of 
rushing  thoughts,  and  the  vehemence  of  action, 
may  be  peculiar  to  a  few.  It  is  not  fanaticism, 
nor  a  weak  excitability,  to  be  overwhelmed  with 
appropriate  emotion ;  nor  is  it  a  sign  of  a  less 
true  and  availing  sensibility,  that  a  heart  as 
quick  to  see,  and  as  prompt  to  act,  is  not  as 
oppressed  with  feeling. 

So  is  it,  also,  with  the  influence  of  the  circum¬ 
stances  under  which,  other  things  being  equal, 
the  same  truths  come  home  to  us.  There  is  an  in¬ 
stinctive  response  of  the  heart  to  any  expression 
of  emotion  in  one  who  addresses  its.  Even  in 
the  quietude  of  ordinary  intercourse,  the  heart 
reflects  the  varying  hue  of  feeling  in  those  around 
us ;  and  it  requires  a  mental  effort  to  preserve,  if 
we  would,  our  independence  of  their  presence. 
But  when  expression  is  given  to  the  master  pas¬ 
sions  of  the  soul,  and  its  gathered  emotions  burst 
the  restraints  of  conventionality  and  natural 
reserve,  the  rushing  tide,  as  it  sweeps  across  our 
sluggish  hearts,  quickens  them  with  its  own  im¬ 
petuosity,  and  turns,  and  directs,  and  bears  on¬ 
ward  every  wave  of  feeling,  until  the  collective 
emotions  of  a  vast  audience  roll  in  one  resistless 


202 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


torrent.  As  by  a  mesmeric  cliarm,  the  orator 
makes  the  multitude  a  part  of  his  own  individual 
being,  and  they  see  in  his  light,  and  thrill  with 
his  passions,  and  resolve  with  his  will.  And 
when  the  earnest  words  are  the  breathings  of  a 
burning  piety,  the  natural  power  of  eloquence  is 
not  lost.  The  emotions  may  appear  to  subside 
when  the  hour  is  over ;  the  ripples  of  gentler 
emotion  may  soon  vanish,  or  the  great  deep  of 
the  soul  may  longer  heave  in  tumultuous  energv, 
and  then  grow  still  when  the  storm  is  past;  but  for 
that  brief  season  the  hopes,  the  fears,  the  remorse, 
the  resolution  of  the  hearer,  are  aroused  and  in¬ 
flamed  by  mere  contact  with  a  fervid  eloquence. 

The  association  with  others  who  are  filled  with 
deep  emotion  has  a  similar  sympathetic  influence 
upon  the  tone  of  our  own  feelings.  There  is  a 
subtle  consciousness  of  the  prevailing  sentiment 
throughout  a  large  audience,  or  in  private  gath¬ 
erings,  which  none  can  wholly  overcome ;  a 
contagion  of  sensibility  which  imparts  a  feeling 
scarcely  to  be  called  our  own.  Yet  the  subdued 
influence  of  such  external  sympathies  may  per¬ 
vade  and  modify  our  entire  tone  of  sentiment. 
Truths  which  come  home  to  us  amid  such  asso¬ 
ciations,  come  with  all  the  peculiar  cast  of  feel¬ 
ing  appropriate  to  the  circumstances. 


RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE - CONVICTION.  203 


Briefly,  too,  we  must  notice  the  modifying 
power  of  personal  circumstances  upon  onr  feel¬ 
ings,  in  view  of  religions  truth.  The  hour  of 
trial  is  proverbially  an  hour  of  religious  sensi¬ 
bility.  It  is  not  only  that  the  shadow  of  afflic- 

fJ  1 / 

tion  breaks  the  false  glare  of  worldly  enjoyment, 
and  shows  things  in  all  their  naked  insufficiency ; 
but  the  heart,  thus  subdued  and  chastened,  is 
made  more  susceptible  to  any  appeal  to  its 
nobler  sentiments  ;  and  when  its  feelings  are 
vibrating  more  quickly  and  sweetly  to  any  touch, 
there  is  a  peculiar  sensibility  to  the  touch  of 
eternal  truth.  And  whatever  circumstances  sug¬ 
gest,  of  themselves,  the  great  truths  of  our  mor¬ 
tality,  our  helplessness,  or  our  need  of  divine 
communion,  combine  and  blend  their  peculiar 
emotions  with  the  power  of  the  religious  truth 
that  may  be  presented  with  them. 

How,  these  natural  feelings  are  not  to  be  con¬ 
sidered  as  entirely  religious  emotions,  yet  relig¬ 
ious  feeling  is  almost  invariably  associated  with 
them.  The  excitement  may  afterward  be  proven 
to  have  been  merely  adventitious ;  or,  as  it  dies 
away,  the  religious  sensibility  may  be  found  but 
feeble  in  its  independent  strength :  yet  it  is  the 
Spirit  of  God  which  gives  the  heart,  whose  emo¬ 
tion  is  communicated  to  us,  these  same  spiritual 


204 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


emotions,  and  which  has  given  to  ns  some 
religions  susceptibility;  and  that  Spirit,  acting 
through  these  natural  instrumentalities,  lends 
them  a  supernatural  power.  These  emotional 
influences,  even  if  they  do  die  away,  are  not  to 
be  discredited  or  neglected,  if  they  lead  the 
heart  to  abiding  spiritual  impressions.  Well, 
indeed,  is  it  for  us  if,  amid  our  heedlessness,  a 
human  sympathy  and  an  earthly  sorrow,  as  we 
open  our  hearts  to  receive  them,  may  let  the 
countenance  of  Kim  who  long  has  stood  at  the 
door  and  knocked,  meet  our  gaze,  and  his  voice 
of  rebuke  and  promise  come,  for  the  moment  at 
least,  with  more  persuasive  power. 

It  may  be  well  also  to  notice  the  fact,  that 

e/  J 

there  is  a  great  difference  between  a  sense  of  the 
sinfulness  of  our  nature  and  a  sense  of  the  guilt 
of  actual  crimes  which  we  have  done.  We  may 
all  acknowledge  the  guilt  of  evil  desires,  of  ma¬ 
licious  passions,  and  of  low  motives;  we  may 
even  be  conscious  that  outward  influences  alone 
prevent  indulgence  in  transgression;  and  yet, 
when  outward  freedom  does  give  opportunity 
for  action,  and  the  deed  is  done,  the  startled  soul 
is  abashed  and  revolted  by  the  very  sin  which  it 
has  long  cherished.  W e  allude  to  the  fact  only 
to  illustrate  the  wav  in  which  the  convictions  of 

•j 


RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE - CONVICTION.  205 


those  whose  lives  have  been  marked  by  open 
and  definite  crimes,  are  likely  to  be  more  sharp 
and  vivid,  when  once  aroused,  than  the  convic¬ 
tions  of  men  who,  under  the  restraints  of  moral¬ 
ity,  have  sinned  only  in  spirit  and  hi  negative 
transgression.  The  moralist  cannot  so  fix  his 
gaze  on  specific  acts  in  which  the  whole  sin  of 
his  life  seems  concentrated,  and  so  he  may  be 
less  agitated  bv  remorse  ;  but  the  clearer  teach- 

O  d  y 

ing,  which  is  generally  around  him  in  his  less 
disturbed  life,  may  bring  to  him  a  more  just  con¬ 
viction  of  the  pervading  evil  of  his  heart. 

The  same  influences  which  vary  the  intensity 

t/  if 

of  emotion,  may  also  affect  the  nature  of  the 

y  *J 

sentiment  thus  awakened  bv  the  convincing 
Spirit.  Sometimes  the  sense  of  sin  is  the 
only  or  the  chief  thought  which  oppresses  the 
soul ;  sometimes  God  brings  a  strange  fearful- 
ness  of  vengeance,  and  from  the  trembling  ap¬ 
prehension  of  the  gathering  storm,  leads  men  to 
think  upon  the  sin  which  soon  will  bid  it  burst 
upon  them.  Sometimes,  through  direct  spirit¬ 
ual  agency,  or  through  the  vivid  portraitures 
of  one  who  sees  the  “terrors  of  the  Lord,” 
and  the  helplessness  of  the  guilty  spirit,  that 
spirit  may  be  all  absorbed  by  the  one  thought 
of  escaping  the  wrath  to  come ;  and  even  when 


206 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


its  gaze  is  turned  inward  on  the  real  evil  of  sin 
itself,  and  while  it  seeks  purity  for  its  own  sake, 
still  the  vivid  impression  of  the  damnation  that 
slumbereth  not  may  so  haunt  it  that,  to  the  end, 
fear  is  an  overwhelming  emotion.  In  other  ex¬ 
periences,  the  soul,  directed  first  to  the  “  sinful¬ 
ness  of  sin,”  may  indeed  feel  the  associated  sense 
of  danger,  but  the  habitual  expectation  of  final 
forgiveness,  and  the  soothing  influence  of  the 
Holy  Spirit,  who  would  use  fear  only  as  a  step 
toward  penitence,  may  keep  the  emotion  of  ter¬ 
ror  subdued  and  almost  unnoticed.  It  matters 
not,  so  that  the  calmer  penitent  forbear  to  charge 
it  on  his  trembling  brother,  who  shudders  be¬ 
neath  the  uplifted  stroke,  that  his  prayer  is  the 
cry  of  fear  alone ;  so  that  one  who  has  passed 
through  terror  into  peace,  impugn  not  the  silent 
but  bitter  consciousness  of  one  so  filled  with  a 
sense  of  his  crime,  as  he  stands  upon  the  scaffold 
of  time,  that  he  scarcely  heeds  the  executioner, 
and  pleads  not  so  much  to  be  unpunished  as  to 
be  forgiven. 

AY e  have  thus  seen  through  what  varied  phases 
of  experience  God  may  bring  the  soul  to  see 
more  clearly  its  need  of  salvation ;  either  by 
an  immediate  impression  of  guilt,  or  by  a  con¬ 
viction  in  connexion  with  a  dread  of  the  judg- 


RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE - CONVICTION.  207 


ment  to  come.  There  is  an  experience  less 
strongly  marked,  by  which  God  leads  thousands 
to  the  same  point.  Those  stern  convictions  do, 
indeed,  often  break  in  harshly  upon  the  business 
and  amusements  of  a  life  which  seems  bright 
and  satisfying,  if  only  it  were  undisturbed  by 
their  intrusion.  But  sometimes  they  do  not 
break  in  roughly.  The  heart,  left  to  its  idols, 
finds  the  pursuits  of  life  grow  unsatisfying  and 
its  pleasures  pall  upon  the  weary  spirit,  until  in 
loneliness,  and  emptiness,  and  almost  despair,  it 
seeks  a  surer  resting-place,  and  feels  its  need  of 
a  Father  and  a  God,  and  sees  its  own  unfitness 
to  commune  and  be  a  child.  There  conies  no 
thunder-cloud  to  scathe  our  paradise  ;  but,  be¬ 
neath  a  serene  skv  the  Eden  fades,  and  wilts 
away,  and  we,  looking  wistfully  upward  to  an 
inheritance  that  fadetli  not,  feel  that  we  are  of 
the  earth,  earthy,  and  cannot  soar  away.  Friends 
die,  or  scatter,  or  grow  cold  ;  disease  wastes  the 
natural  energy,  and  shuts  us  in  from  the  common 
circle  ;  poverty  comes  round  us  ;  early  ambitions 
fail ;  the  tinsel  and  the  trickery  of  life  are  shown; 
we  see  ourselves !  "W e  ask,  How  long  is  this  to  last  ? 
W e  look  deathward — and  feel  we  need  a  change 

o 

ere  then.  Sermon,  and  Bible,  and  inward  moni¬ 
tions  tell  us  of  One  “  who  satisfieth  the  longing 


208 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


soul.*’  W e  feel  that  we  are  separate  from  God. 
We  feel  more  and  more,  that  in  his  presence 
we  dare  not  speak  of  any  virtue.  We  are  pene¬ 
trated  with  a  sense  of  utter  unworthiness.  We 
are  convinced  of  sin. 

The  reader  will  now,  we  trust,  understand  that 
all  these  phases  of  experience  are  hut  accidents, 
and  that  the  only  thing  essential  is,  the  knowl¬ 
edge  of  our  sin  and  danger.  To  every  heart  that 
knowledge  is  given,  and  acting  on  that  knowl¬ 
edge  it  may  seek  and  find  redemption.  Let  the 
reader  remember  that,  while  the  Spirit  may  work 
upon  his  heart,  even  beyond  ordinary  rules,  in 
the  suddenness  or  energy  of  its  power,  yet  he 
cannot  rely  upon  any  such  special  operation  to 
rouse  his  sense  of  sin,  for  no  promise  of  it  is 
oiven.  Let  him  not  wait  for  the  coming  of 

O  O 

those  more  vivid  apprehensions  and  severe  les¬ 
sons  of  which  we  have  spoken :  they  may  never 
come  to  him.  He  is  convinced  of  his  condition, 
however  little  he  feels  it.  If  ever  he  feel  more 
deeply,  it  is  well ;  hut  whether  he  shall  feel  or 
not,  he  may  act  upon  his  conviction.  Action  on 
that  conviction  will  save  him ;  and,  if  inactive, 
that  conviction  will  damn  him. 

We  dwell  upon  this  point,  because,  owing  to 
causes  similar  to  those  alluded  to  above,  a  large 


RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE - CONVICTION. 


209 


number  of  those  cases  of  bright  religious  expe¬ 
rience  which  have  attracted  attention,  especially 
in  some  denominations,  have  been  preceded  by 
a  sudden  and  new  apprehension  of  sin  and 
wrath,  by  intense  emotions  of  fear  and  shame, 
by  sudden  conflict,  bitter  and  brief.  These 
boldly-outlined  instances  haye  been  made  a 
standard  by  their  subjects  and  by  others.  Such 
emotions  and  yiyid  apprehension  haye  been 
deemed  an  invariable  accompaniment  of  any 

spiritual  impressions,  and  an  absolute  prerequi¬ 
site  to  prayer  for  pardon.  Meanwhile  thousands 
have  sought  and  found  relief  without  any  such 
marked  emotional  experience.  Yet  thousands 
are  held  back  from  prayer  and  duty,  to  await 
some  convulsion  of  feeling.  Let  them  know 
that  there  is  not  one  single  degree  or  peculiarity 
of  experience  attending  conviction,  from  the 
merest  intellectual  conviction  to  the  most  over¬ 
whelming  emotion,  which  has  not  been  made 
the  starting-point  of  a  successful  religious  course, 
and  may  not  be  so  again. 

The  moral  man  especially,  familiar  from  child¬ 
hood  with  eternal  things,  shielded  by  early  nur¬ 
ture  from  outward  vice,  favoured  with  a  genial 
temperament,  listening,  it  may  be,  to  pulpit 

addresses,  earnest  but  not  impassioned,  contin- 

14 


210 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


ually  associating  the  idea  of  expected  pardon 
with  every  thought  of  guilt — the  moral  man  is 
of  all  men  least  likely  to  be  surprised  with  sud¬ 
den  and  violent  convictions.  Let  him  not  be 
disheartened  by  them  absence.  Let  him  not 
excuse  himself  from  diligent  prayer  and  watch¬ 
ful  effort  against  sin,  as  though  these  were  use¬ 
less  or  less  acceptable  to  God  than  if  he  had 
more  of  emotion.  God  has  shown  him  life  and 
death :  God  will  hear  him  if  he  will  but  pray. 
If  he  will  not  seek  the  grace  which  he  knows  he 
may  secure,  God  may  justly  let  him  perish. 

Note. — We  must  again  remind  the  critical  reader  that  we 
do  not  profess  in  these  pages  to  present  a  systematic  view  of 
religious  experience ;  we  are  speaking  to  men  who  are  fa¬ 
miliar  with  the  general  subject;  we  only  present  such  points 
as  may  relieve  the  usual  perplexities,  and  facilitate  the  per¬ 
sonal  experience,  of  the  class  of  moral  men  for  whom  we 
write. 


m 


tons  (fc:ir|t'n£ntr- 
llmittaiue. 


rvj- 


lljns.es  of 


“An  evangelical  repentance  is  a  godly  sorrow  wrought  in 
the  heart  of  a  sinful  person  by  the  word  and  Spirit  of  God. 
whereby,  from  a  sense  of  his  sin,  as  offensive  to  God,  and 
defiling  and  endangering  to  his  own  soul,  and  from  an  appre¬ 
hension  of  the  mercy  of  God  in  Christ,  he  with  grief  and 
haired  of  all  his  known  sins,  turns  from  them  to  God,  as  his 
Saviour  and  Lord.” 


Richard  Watson. 


IX. 

PECHIAE  PEASES  OP  RELIGIOUS  EXPEREXCE- 

REPIhlAh'CE. 


TV 


Z.  AXZ  GO  rZTTO  XT  FATHER.  - Bit 


terlv  enough  had  Ee  felt  tEe  successive  dezrada- 


L5.  and 


realized  tEe  fate  that  closed  around 
Elm :  ve:  Ee  sat  motionless  in  Eis  humiliation. 

c. 

and  strove  to  banish  thoughts  that  would  not 
be  dismissed.  But  that  moment  of  resolution 
came — **  I  will  arise  and  go  !  “  EEs  face  turned 
homeward :  Ee  took  the  Erst  trembling  step 

is  father  saw 


iwav  from  tEe  land  of  exile  : 


To  everv  human  so 


.  •  •  _  _  r 


which  God  has  given  to 
God  nas  given  strength  to  forsake 
it.  TTEeth  er  amid  the  thunder  and  the  whirl¬ 
wind.  the  still  small  voice  has  come :  or.  like  a 
strange  presentiment  of  danger,  the  conviction 
nas  strewn  upon  it.  the  heart  mav  look  toward 
the  cross  of  Christ,  and  sav.  ••  I  will  arise  and  2 of 

c.  *  _ _ - 

Xot  that  bv  one  effort  of  the  will  it  can  throw 

•» 

off  its  evil  nature.  But  every  one  has  power  to 


214 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


struggle  against  the  act  of  sin,  and,  as  he  strug¬ 
gles,  to  pray.  He  may 'entirely  fail  at  first. 
But  his  prayer  will  bring  a  larger  power  of 
resistance  to  evil,  a  deeper  earnestness  of  prayer, 
and  greater  readiness  for  successive  measures 
of  spiritual  aid ;  until  he  becomes  conscious  of 
a  power  not  only  to  resist  but  to  overcome  the 
sinful  impulse,  and  sensible  also  that  in  his  evil 
nature  itself  a  change  from  sinfulness  to  purity 
has  begun,  and  thus  there  is  less  to  overcome. 

In  the  spirit  thus  aroused,  and  gathering  its 
energies  for  the  struggle,  the  first  moral  effort 
is  naturally  directed  to  those  particular  sins 
which  education  or  an  instinctive  horror  have 
made  most  conspicuous,  or  into  which  the  pecu¬ 
liarity  of  our  temperament  and  temptations  may 
have  most  frequently  betrayed  us.  The  rest  of 
our  conduct  seems  comparatively  blameless,  and 
the  work  of  reformation  is  summed  up  in  the 
resolute  conflict  with  a  few  evil  habits.  The 
mam  positive  duties  also,  which  are  seen  to  be 
involved  in  Christian  character,  and  which  have 
hitherto  been  neglected,  are  thenceforth  observed 
with  scrupulous  care.  But  the  'self-reformer, 
with  the  pride  of  success  mingling  with  his 
serious  energy  of  purpose,  soon  starts  to  find 
that  he  has  sadly  miscalculated  the  foes  whom 


KELIG-IOUS  EXPERIENCE - REPENTANCE.  215 

lie  has  challenged.  He  has  laid  prostrate  the 
circle  of  transgressions  which  closed  in  most 
nearly  and  tauntingly  around  him ;  hut  their 
fall  only  leaves  exposed  to  view  other  and  larger 
ranks  of  sins,  which  had  been  undetected  or  hut 
vaguely  apprehended  behind  the  more  prominent 
evils.  For  the  heart  once  resolutely  deaf  to  the 
strongest  claims  of  religious  obligation,  but  now 
quickened,  and  practised  to  hear  their  solemn 
voice,  thrills  to  the  cries  of  a  thousand  duties 
trampled  and  crushed  beneath  the  feet  of  victo¬ 
rious  sins,  and  springs  to  the  rescue.  Again  and 
again,  yea,  more  and  more  as  we  struggle  on, 
the  light  grows  clearer,  and  conscience  more 
sensitive,  until  not  alone  our  more  observable 
words  and  actions  seem  amenable  to  the  law  of 
rectitude,  but  all  actions  and  all  words,  the  imag¬ 
inations  of  the  mind,  the  most  familiar  exercises 
of  the  heart,  the  light  and  fleeting  impulses  of 
the  soul  are  clothed  with  a  moral  character,  and 
are  clearly  right  or  wrong.  The  delicacy  which 
we  once  thought  but  a  morbid  scrupulosity,  a 
weak  attention  to  petty  distinctions,  now  is  felt 
to  be  a  sense  of  solemn  truth.  The  smallest  dia¬ 
mond,  the  minutest  crystal  that  shows  one  facet 
from  out  a  stone,  or  forms  but  half  a  grain  of 
sand,  shines  when  the  sun  beams  on  it,  while  the 


216 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


atom  of  imcrystalline  earth  beside  it  reflects  no 
ray :  and  so,  the  approving  smile,  which,  like  a 
sunlight,  beams  out  from  God's  holiness  on  all 
that  is  not  sin,  is  reflected  from  the  slightest 
actions  and  words,  from  half-formed  feelings 
and  unfinished  thoughts. 

There  is  a  great  point  gained  when  the  soul 
thus  realizes  the  religious  character  of  all  we 
think,  and  feel,  and  say,  and  do.  Conspicuous 
duties  could  be  done,  and  flagrant  vices  could 
be  laid  aside  by  the  resolute  action  of  the  will ; 
and  when  once  the  form  is  not  visible,  the  heart 
may  imagine  that  it  has  annihilated  its  evils. 
But  when  the  entire  previous  life,  even  to  mi¬ 
nutest  action  and  feeling,  assumes  a  moral  char¬ 
acter,  the  self-will  and  the  enmity  which  ap¬ 
peared  to  be  all  summed  up  in  a  few  gross  sins 
that,  like  great  tumours,  festered  on  the  soul, 
now  are  seen  in  a  thousand  points,  and  the  heart 
sickens  to  see  itself  covered  with  sins — covered 
with  a  general  eruption  of  transgressions.  A 
great  point  has  been  gained  ;  but  a  more  solemn 
revelation  is  at  hand.  So  long  as  onlv  a  few 
conspicuous  violations  of  law  were  noticed,  they 
seemed  like  isolated  impulses,  like  mere  local 
weaknesses  or  diseases,  which,  if  not  actually 
caused  by  the  pressure  of  an  outward  ternpta- 


RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE - REPENTANCE.  217 


tion,  were  peculiarly  sensitive  to  its  presence, 
while  the  rest  of  the  moral  being  was  in  health. 
But  as  these  points  of  actual  sin  multiply  and 
overspread  the  soul,  a  sense  of  their  countless¬ 
ness,  and  the  difficulty  of  reducing  them  to 
purity  and  health,  grows  on  us  with  deadly  cer¬ 
tainty.  Then  the  great  truth  comes.  It  flashes 
on  us,  that  these  sins  are  not  scattered  and 
separate  ailings,  which  can  be  removed  by  any 
separate  treatment,  however  severe  and  long 
continued;  but  that  the  disease  is  in  the  blood, 
and  the  inmost  nature  of  the  soul  is  poisoned 
with  the  virus  that  breaks  out  in  separate  trans¬ 
gressions.  Then  self-despair  begins.  As  long 
as  separate  sins  could  be  numbered,  the  soul 
had  courage  to  rally  its  healthful  energies,  and 
overcome  them — but  if  the  nature  be  infected, 
whence  shall  the  restoring  energy  go  forth  ?  A 
terrible  conviction  bursts  upon  the  soul,  as  when 
of  old  a  Hebrew  invalid  hopefully  and  patiently 
applied  the  most  painful  remedies  as  his  malady 
assumed  its  various  forms,  till  suddenly  that 
fatal  sign  met  his  eye,  and  he  cried  out  in  agony, 

U  I  AM  A  LEPER.” 

Yet,  during  this  solemn  instruction  in  the 
completeness  of  his  depravity,  the  repenting 
sinner  may  have  really  corrected  his  life  with  so 


218 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


much  success  that  few  or  none  suspect  him  to 
be  thus  pained  in  secret.  He  may  even  find 
that  as  he  avoids  occasions  of  sin,  and  as  refusal 
to  indulge  or  to  excite  evil  desires  serves,  after 
the  first  struggles,  to  allay  the  craving  for  sin, 
his  heart  itself  is  not  so  agitated  by  conflicting 
passions.  He  may  repress  the  emotion  of  passion 
until  even  he  himself  cannot  realize  that  the 
repressed  principle  still  remains;  and  then  the 
better  impulses  of  his  constitution,  which  have 
heretofore  been  sacrificed  to  the  indulgence  of 
baser  passions,  may  now  assert  their  influence 
and  adorn  the  character. 

Self-Culture  is  the  watchword  of  a  philoso¬ 
phy  directly  opposed  to  the  doctrine  of  depravity 
or  of  regeneration  by  the  Holy  Spirit ;  and  cer¬ 
tainly  the  power  of  self-culture  to  elevate  and 
harmonize  the  character,  by  its  own  single  force, 
apart  from  any  divine  aid  given  in  answer  to 
prayer,  is  a  most  interesting,  as  it  is  to  many 
a  most  perplexing  fact.  A  faculty  adequate  to 
such  high  achievements,  demands  a  fair  consid¬ 
eration  and  a  just  estimate  of  its  claim. 

“  There  are  two  powers  of  the  human  soul 
which  make  self-culture  possible  —  the  self¬ 
searching  and  the  self-forming  power.  W e  have 


RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE - REPENTANCE.  219 


first  the  faculty  of  turning  the  mind  on  itself ; 
of  recalling  its  past  and  matching  its  present 
operations ;  of  learning  its  various  capacities 
and  susceptibilities ;  what  it  can  do  and  bear — 
what  it  can  enjoy  and  suffer ;  and  of  thus  learn¬ 
ing  in  general,  what  our  nature  is,  and  what  it 
was  made  for.  It  is  worthy  of  observation,  that 
we  are  able  to  discern  not  only  what  we  already 
are,  hut  what  we  may  become ;  to  see  in  our¬ 
selves  germs  and  promises  of  a  growth  to  which 
no  hounds  can  he  set ;  to  dart  beyond  what  we 
have  actually  gained,  to  the  idea  of  perfection, 
as  the  end  of  our  being.  It  is  by  this  self-com¬ 
prehending  power  that  we  are  distinguished  from 
the  brutes,  which  give  no  signs  of  looking  into 
themselves.  Without  this  there  would  he  no 
self-culture,  for  we  should  not  know  the  'work  to 
be  done ;  and  one  reason  why  self-culture  is  so 
little  proposed  is,  that  so  few  penetrate  their 
own  nature. 

“  But  self-culture  is  possible,  not  only  because 
we  can  enter  into  and  search  ourselves.  We 
have  still  a  nobler  power —that  of  acting  on,  de¬ 
termining,  and  forming  ourselves.  This  is  a  fear¬ 
ful  as  well  as  glorious  endowment ;  for  it  is  the 
ground  of  human  responsibility.  We  have  the 
power  not  only  of  tracing  our  powers,  but  of 


220 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


guiding  and  impelling  them ;  not  only  of  watch¬ 
ing  our  passions,  but  of  controlling  them ;  not 
only  of  seeing  our  faculties  grow,  hut  of  apply¬ 
ing  to  them  means  and  influences  to  aid  their 
growth.  We  can  stay  or  change  the  current  of 
thought.  We  can  concentrate  the  intellect  on 
objects  which  we  wish  to  comprehend.  We  can 
fix  our  eyes  on  perfection,  and  make  almost  every¬ 
thing  speed  us  toward  it.  This  is  indeed  a  noble 
prerogative  of  our  nature.”* 

Koble  prerogative  indeed !  and  one  by  which 
humanity,  as  it  came  from  the  hand  of  the  Creator, 
held  within  itself  the  power  of  infinite  progression 
toward  divine  perfection,  “  changing  from  glory 
unto  glory.”  Endowed  with  the  germ  and  early 
blossoming  of  every  virtue  and  every  grace  of 
character,  it  needed  culture  only  to  develop  the 
perfect  fruit.  And  even  now  the  germ  that  is 
not  blighted  can  be  cultured  still,  and  throw  its 
beauty  and  its  fragrance  over  human  life ;  and 
grafted  impulses,  inserted  for  the  time  in  the 
barren  nature,  may  be  developed  into  moment¬ 
ary  luxuriance  ;  but  the  blighted  germs  of  spirit¬ 
ual  affections  and  principles  defy  all  power  of 
culture.  USTot  until  again  created  as  at  first,  by 

°  Channing’s  Self-Culture. 


RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE— —REPENTANCE.  221 

the  energy  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  will  the  living 
germ  of  a  spiritual  life  be  there  to  admit  of  cul¬ 
ture. 

However  specious,  therefore,  the  achievements 
of  a  prayerless  self-culture  may  appear — a  cul¬ 
ture  of  those  elements  which  are  found  in  hu¬ 
manity  without  a  divine  implantation  of  new 
principles — they  will  be  found  upon  examination 
to  be  exhausted  in  mere  external  reformation,  in 
the  strengthening  or  repression  of  those  tempo¬ 
rary  instincts  which  encase  the  soul,  and  in  the 
delicacy  given  by  exercise  to  those  apprehen¬ 
sions  of  the  obligation  and  beauty  of  perfect  vir¬ 
tue,  which  are  indestructible  elements  even  in  a 
depraved  nature.  That  only  can  be  cultivated 
which  already  has  root  in  our  nature.  Let  then 
those  elements  of  moral  and  social  character, 
upon  which  we  have  so  long  dwelt  in  former 
pages,  have  the  highest  culture ;  let  the  best 
combination  of  natural  dispositions  be  encour¬ 
aged  by  all  prudential  restraints  and  a  fostering 
education  ;  let  the  oppressive  sense  of  the  moral 
obligation  of  rectitude  attend  each  action,  and 
keep  the  future  destiny  in  view ;  let  a  sense  of 
the  artistic  beauty  of  virtue  prompt  to  a  mere 
sentimental  desire  for  symmetry  of  character; 
let  the  Spirit,  which  is  ever  warning  or  alluring 


222 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


the  soul  by  its  secret  whispers,  breathe  sugges¬ 
tions  of  better  things ;  and  you  may  produce  a 
character  almost  faultless  to  outward  observa¬ 
tion,  and  presenting  a  strange  similitude  to  re¬ 
ligious  experience  in  men  who  never  prayed 
nor  felt  their  need  of  prayer,  or  pardon,  or  re¬ 
newal — who  never  yet  felt  that  personal  affec¬ 
tion  toward  the  Holiest  and  Best,  for  which  no 
general  sentiment  can  be  a  compensation. 

Self-culture,  in  another  sense,  is  indeed  the 
life-work  of  the  Christian ;  but  it  is  the  culture  of 
a  new  element  of  character,  implanted  in  an¬ 
swer  to  prayer,  and  cherished  in  a  strength  and 
wisdom  sought  and  found  out  of  himself.  This 
true  religious  culture  may  indeed  demand  the 
same  prudential  avoidance  of  temptation,  the 
same  repression  of  manifestations  of  evil,  the 
same  culture  of  natural  virtues,  beneath  the 
shelter  of  which  true  spiritual  virtue  may  more 
easily  grow  up.  But  all  this  is  felt  to  be  but 
subservient  and  temporary — the  careful  strength¬ 
ening  of  the  false- work  over  which  the  arch  of 
spiritual  purity  reaches  its  completeness. 

Thus  far,  then,  we  have  been  speaking  of  that 
which  the  soul  may  learn  and  do,  by  the  action 
of  its  own  conscience  and  its  own  will,  quickened 


RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE - REPENTANCE.  223 


by  that  Holy  Spirit  which,  unasked  and  unde¬ 
sired — yea,  resisted  and  despised- — still  will  not 
leave  us,  hut  yet  waits  to  be  gracious  more  and 
more.  There  may  have  been  no  prayer ;  there 
may  have  been  no  distinct  dependence  upon 
divine  aid.  Seeing  its  sins,  an  honest  heart  un¬ 
dertakes  to  remove  them ;  and  its  first  success  in 
relinquishing  many  forms  of  transgression  leaves 
it  no  sense  of  weakness.  As  the  multitude  of 
the  heart’s  imperfections  comes  out  more  clearly, 
the  work  appears  more  arduous,  but  not  imprac¬ 
ticable  to  energetic  effort.  Then,  as  self-disci¬ 
pline  is  turned  to  those  expressions  of  desire  or 
passion  which  are  more  spontaneous,  less  under 
the  control  of  the  will,  and  lying,  if  we  may  so 
express  it,  nearer  to  the  heart  itself,  failure  upon 
failure  dispirits  the  first  enthusiasm,  and  the 
spirit,  sorely  pressed,  would  fain  have  aid  from 
heaven.  Yet  still  the  aid  desired  is  only  partial — 
a  grant  additional  to  previous  endowments,  and 
merely  supplementary  to  native  powers.  But 
more  and  more  seems  needed  as  the  conflict 
thickens,  until  as  he,  day  by  day,  realizes  more 
clearly  that  he  is  combating,  not  with  the  mere 
forms  of  evil  but  with  the  secret  energy  that  is 
beneath  them ;  and  as  at  last  he  sees  that  this 
energy  of  sin  is  the  pulsation  of  his  very  being, 


224 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


the  honest  and  humble  spirit  admits  the  fact  that 
he  can  of  himself  do  just  nothing  to  the  purpose, 
and  God  must  work  the  whole  salvation,  if  it  be 
wrought  at  all. 

And  here  we  feel  bound,  in  justice  to  the  pa¬ 
tient  kindness  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  to  speak  of  an¬ 
other  phase  of  repentance,  which  is  not  enough 
observed  by  the  world  or  by  the  Church.  We 
know  that  the  natural  expression  of  feeling  is  in 
language,  and  that  a  sense  of  personal  depend¬ 
ence  on  another,  and  a  desire  for  direct  assist¬ 
ance,  naturally  leads  to  a  direct  expression  and  a 
formal  application.  Thus  prayer  is  habitually 
spoken  of  in  Scripture  as  a  verbal  and  spe¬ 
cific  expression  of  recognised  wants,  demand¬ 
ing  for  its  full  and  concentrated  power  the 
privilege  of  definite  time,  and  place,  and  utter¬ 
ance.  Even  the  veteran  Christian  feels  increas¬ 
ingly  the  necessity  of  those  seasons  of  concen¬ 
trated  and  exclusive  supplication,  in  order  to 
sustain  that  clear  sense  of  divine  things,  and 
those  spontaneous  aspirations,  which  pervade 
his  momentary  life.  Perhaps  few  instances  are 
known,  in  which,  without  that  spoken  prayer — 
in  whispered  tones  it  may  be,  or  in  broken  utter¬ 
ance,  but  still  the  articulate  utterance  of  an 
earnest  heart — any  one  has  reached  the  full  ex 


RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE - REPENTANCE.  225 

perience  of  a  living  Christianity.  Few  minds 
are  so  formed  and  trained  that  they  could  with- 

t / 

hold  the  utterance  of  deep  feeling,  and  fewer  still 
would  do  it  without  self-discipline  and  a  set  pur¬ 
pose.  Yet  it  may  be  so,  that,  in  the  earlier  stages 
of  religious  experience  at  least,  the  spirit  of 
prayer  may  breathe  out  from  the  heart,  although 
unclothed  in  words,  and  unrecognised  as  prayer 
by  the  soul  itself.  Deepening  convictions  of  sin 
may  grow  upon  the  conscience,  and  resolute 
effort  be  put  forth,  and  under  the  sense  of  weak¬ 
ness  gained  bv  instruction  or  bv  experience,  the 
heart  may  feel  its  dependence  upon  God,  and 
lean  humbly  and  trustingly  ujpon  his  aid  as  it 
struggles  onward.  Ask  such  a  one,  abruptly, 
if  he  prays,  and  he  may  start,  and  answer,  “  Yo.” 
Yet  he  does  pray ;  not  in  that  full  expression, 
that  minute  specification,  and  that  direct  address 
which  by  a  law  of  our  constitution  would  deepen 
the  uttered  feelings  as  they  are  poured  forth ; 
but  yet  he  prays  in  the  spirit  of  humble  trust 
for  aid. 

Yow.  in  the  light  of  this  observation,  we  see 
ihe  true  solution  of  a  problem  most  difficult  to 
those  who  recognise  no  transition  stage  between 
mere  natural  self-culture  and  that  definite  prayer- 

fulness  which  takes  the  open  attitude  of  a  peni- 

15 


226 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


tent.  Often  does  the  pastor’s  eye  rest  upon 
honoured  and  amiable  men  and  women,  whose 
attentive  gaze  and  serious  spirit  indicate  their 
religious  sensibility.  Not  only  is  there  correct¬ 
ness  in  their  life,  and  a  careful  culture  of  that 
symmetry  and  justness  of  sentiment  which  a  re¬ 
fined  and  cultured  mind  may  be  expected  to 
exhibit ;  but  there  is  a  solemn  recognition  of 
truth,  a  spiritual  apprehension,  a  tone  of  depend¬ 
ence  and  of  trust,  which,  even  while  some  evils 
may  yet  visibly  be  indulged,  do  betoken  a  spirit 
in  some  degree  moulded  and  taught  of  God. 
And  it  is,  in  very  truth,  an  incipient  Christian 
experience.  It  is  not  prudential,  nor  instinctive, 
nor  sesthetic  morality :  it  is  not  the  energy  of  a 
soul  with  only  the  original  measure  of  grace 
which  started  him  on  his  probation.  It  is  the 
experience  of  one  taught  his  danger  and  his  sin, 
who,  in  his  effort  to  reform,  feels  the  need  of 
pardon  and  of  grace,  and  does  lean  on  God  for 
help  day  by  day.  Such  perhaps  was  that  young 
man  whom  Jesus  loved,  although  for  a  moment, 
as  a  new  view  of  self-denial  probed  his  nature  to 
the  quick,  he  shrank  and  went  away  sorrowful. 
Nature  may  not  hare  the  credit  of  such  charac¬ 
ters.  Keligion  has  begun  to  transform  them 
with  her  light.  The  Spirit,  has  breathed  upon 


RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE' - REPENTANCE.  227 

those  hearts.  They  are  not  to  he  confused  by 
mere  denunciation,  but  to  be  welcomed  as  even 
now  crossing  the  threshold  of  religion,  and  only 
to  be  led  on  to  more  decided  and  explicit  action. 

In  the  process  of  gathering  resolution  which 
finally  consents  to  yield  all  known  transgression, 
however  cherished  and  habitual,  the  heart  some¬ 
times  is  perplexed  to  find  its  hardest  struggle  to 
be  with  sins  to  which  it  had  scarcely  realized  a 
temptation  before.  Indulgences  so  trivial  that 
one  would  have  smiled  at  the  idea  of  bondage 
to  them,  and  which  are  even  now  despised,  are 

vet  the  hardest  and  last  to  be  sacrificed.  It 
? 

seems  as  though  the  evil  spirit  had  not  only  re¬ 
linquished  all  the  fortress  beside,  to  entrench 
himself  more  strongly  in  one  tower ;  but  as  if  in 
mockery  he  made  that  point  impregnable  which 
we  had  thought  of  the  least  strength.  Long 
may  the  heart  pause  before  that  little  sin,  so 
slight  amid  the  larger  sacrifices  already  made 
to  duty,  as  to  be  scarcely  seen.  The  unwilling 
spirit  asks  if  He  to  whom  all  else  is  surrendered, 
will  let  a  little  thing  like  that  destroy  his  favour. 
And  we  answer,  Ho!  God  cares  not  for  that 
petty  sin ;  but  around  that  trivial  act  the  self- 
will  of  the  heart  is  gathered.  To  disobey  and 
to  wound  a  friend,  to  break  the  law  of  right, 


228 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


when  temptation  is  overwhelming,  might  admit 
of  palliation.  But  God  counts  those  transgres¬ 
sions  great,  the  inducements  to  which  are  so  con¬ 
temptible. 

The  sense  of  sin  involves  the  consciousness  of 
guilt  and  the  desert  of  punishment.  We  said 
above  that  sometimes  the  fearful  apprehension 
of  wrath  to  come  agitated  the  penitent,  even 
through  long  seasons  of  contrition.  But  some¬ 
times  the  Holy  Spirit,  even  in  advance,  gives  to 
the  heart  that  is  pressing  on  toward  its  full  re¬ 
demption,  such  a  view  of  the  atonement  as 
breaks  the  terror  while  it  leaves  the  shame. 
Hard  is  it  for  a  high  spirit  to  come  humbly 
down  and  take  mercy — as  sheer  mercy — which 
might  have  been  withheld,  and  left  him  wretch¬ 
ed  in  defilement  and  fearful  punishment.  The 
heart  must  feel  that  it  must  be  forgiven  before 
it  can  be  renewed  /  must  come  in  disgrace  and 
humiliation ,  and  ask  to  be  restored. 

And,  finally,  as  the  hour  of  deliverance  draws 
near,  the  Holy  Spirit  breathes  more  and  more 
into  the  heart  a  hatred  to  sin,  as  well  as  a  fear 
of  its  penalties ;  and  from  its  intrinsic  vileness  the 
spirit  turns  with  loathing.  It  yields  no  longer 
to  the  seductive  evil  as  to  an  enticement  that 
it  loves,  though  fearing  the  retribution  which 


RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE - REPENTANCE.  229 


must  follow ;  it  turns  away  no  longer  from  a 
cherished  though  forbidden  vice :  it  loathes  its 
conquerors ;  it  despises  its  master  sins ;  it  de¬ 
lights  in  the  law  of  God  after  the  inward  man, 
and  feels  that  it  is  carnal — sold  under  sin. 
Sickened,  and  oppressed  by  unwilling  associa¬ 
tion  of  every  thought  and  feeling  with  trans¬ 
gression,  the  weary  soul  cries  out,  “  O  !  wretched 
man  that  I  am!  who  shall  deliver  me  from  the 
body  of  this  death 

In  thus  presenting  the  successive  phases  of 
experience  through  which  an  earnest  penitent 
may  pass  in  his  progress  to  peace  and  purity, 
we  do  not  mean  to  assert  that  the  process  must 
be  long,  and  the  lessons  learned  so  gradually,  as 
we  have  described  them.  In  the  rich,  warm 
moisture  of  a  river’s  bank  beneath  a  tropical  sky, 
a  single  day  will  suffice  to  raise  with  magic  sud- 

CJ  d  O 

denness  the  huge  luxuriance  of  a  majestic  plant 
from  the  tiniest  seed.  In  colder  zones  that 
growth  would  be  the  slow  and  gradual  work 
of  months.  Yet  the  process  of  growth  is  identi¬ 
cal.  The  same  chemical  changes,  and  the  same 
mechanical  formation  of  cell  and  fibre,  and  blos¬ 
som  and  full  fruit,  go  on  in  each ;  only  in  one  the 
stages  are  distinctly  marked,  while  in  the  other 
thev  cannot  be  discriminated.  Thus,  under  varv- 

7  d 


230 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


ing  influences  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  acting  through 
varying  circumstances  around  the  soul,  and  with 
the  varying  cooperation  of  the  soul  itself,  the 
transition  and  processes  of  Christian  experience 
may  he  hastened  or  retarded,  so  that  sometimes 
any  eye  may  mark  the  successive  stages,  and 
sometimes  they  may  be  unperceived  by  the  peni¬ 
tent  himself.  The  slower  movement  affords  an 
easier  exhibition  and  analysis  of  the  great  pro¬ 
cesses  of  moral  growth :  and,  generally,  the 
moral  man  will  pass  through  that  more  gradual 
transition.  But  wheresoever  the  reader  may  feel 
that  he  can  recognise  his  heart’s  position  along 
the  earlier  stages  which  we  have  exemplified, 
let  him  hasten,  by  immediate  prayer  and  resolu¬ 
tion,  to  reach  a  perfect  experience. 


X. 


tints  feprutta— Jfattl. 


“  To  him  that  in  thy  Name  believes, 

Eternal  life  with  thee  is  given ; 

Into  himself  he  all  receives, — 

Pardon,  and  holiness,  and  heaven. 

“The  things  unknown  to  feeble  sense, 

Unseen  by  reason’s  glimm’ring  ray, 

With  strong  commanding  evidence, 

Their  heavenly  origin  display. 

“Faith  lends  its  realizing  light; 

The  clouds  disperse,  the  shadows  fly; 

The’  Invisible  appears  in  sight, 

And  God  is  seen  by  mortal  eye.” 

Charles  Wesley. 


PECULIAR  PHASES  OE  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE  - 

PAITH. 


Conviction  bears  her  torch  into  the  secret  cham¬ 
bers  of  the  soul,  and  it  writhes  beneath  a  sense 
of  sin. 

Repentance  speaks,  and  that  soul  rouses  to  a 
resistance  to  the  evil,  until  in  self-despair  it  can 
only  pray. 

Faith  utters,  “I  believe,”  and  lo!  a  “new  cre¬ 
ation:”  the  sinner  stands  forgiven — purified — a 
child  of  God ! 

What  is  this  faith  ? 

Freely  God  will  bestow  pardon  and  renewal 
on  any  penitent  seeker ;  but  of  course  the  gift 
must  be  received  with  a  full  understanding  and 
acknowledgment  of  the  circumstances  under 
which  it  is  given.  Man  must  take  his  proper 
attitude  before  God  and  the  universe,  and  he 
must  own  the  true  character  of  the  act  which 
saves  him.  Thoroughly  depraved,  the  blessing 
which  he  seeks  must  not  be  mere  strengthening 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


234 

and  aid,  but  a  new  nature — a  regeneration — a 
life  from  the  dead.  Guilty  in  his  pollution,  he 
must  seek  favour  not  as  mere  benevolence,  but 
as  mercy,  from  a  God  whom  he  has  personally 
wronged  and  insulted.  Exposed  to  punishment, 
he  must  feel  that  his  soul  has  no  compensation 
which  it  can  bring  to  atone  for  its  past  and  pres¬ 
ent  sin.  So  long  as  a  soul  shall  refuse  honestly 
to  look  its  sins  in  the  face,  and  feel  their  vileness, 
and  meanness,  and  insult ;  so  long  as  it  would  fain 
take  God's  help  rather  as  the  faithful  soldier’s 
regular  rations,  than  as  the  reprieve  given  to  a 
deserter ;  so  long  it  will  seek  in  vain.  But  the 
heart  humbled  and  without  a  plea,  may  trust  in 
God’s  promise  for  present  pardon  and  for  present 
power.  Thus,  by  resting  solely  on  God’s  mercy, 
the  soul  distinctly  abjures  any  merit  or  power 
in  itself,  and  so  negatively  recognises  the  true 
circumstances  under  which  salvation  is  to  be 
given. 

But,  furthermore,  it  is  clear  that  the  gift  may 
be  free,  and  yet  God  may  have  chosen  a  special 
method  of  bestowing  it.  There  may  be  some¬ 
thing  in  that  method  repulsive,  or  humiliating, 
or  perplexing  to  the  mind,  and  yet  God  has  a 
right  to  demand  that  we  take  his  gift,  not  only 
as  his  gift,  but  as  coming  through  these  particu- 


RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE - FAITH. 


235 


lar  circumstances  and  instrumentalities.  If  it  has 
pleased  God  to  grant  us  salvation  by  the  death 
of  Christ  as  an  atonement,  we  cannot  leave  out 
of  sight  this  great  fact,  and  say  we  will  take  the 
mercy  direct  from  God,  without  reference  to  the 
views  or  the  expedients  which  have  weight  upon 
his  mind.  We  must  take  it  as  it  really  is- — as 
God’s  mercy  shown  to  us  in  view  of  that  sacri¬ 
ficial  death.  We  must  trust  in  God’s  mercy, 
through  Christ. 

It  is  not  demanded  that  a  penitent  be  able  to 
solve  all  the  deep  problems  which  hang  around 
the  atonement.  He  may  trust  God’s  word  that  the 
sufferings  of  Jesus  are  held  as  the  substitute  or 
equivalent  for  the  penalties  he  merited,  and  yet 
he  may  not  fathom  the  mystery,  how  God  finds 
in  them  a  reason  and  a  means,  without  which  he 
could  not  pardon.  The  unlettered  orphan-boy, 
ignorant  and  of  slow  comprehension,  may  take 
the  check  handed  him  by  a  benefactor,  and 
hearing  that  in  view  of,  and  for  the  sake  of  that 
check,  his  plea  will  be  heard  by  a  banker,  may 
never  think  or  never  know  just  how  this  banker 
is  persuaded  to  give  the  money,  or  how  he  is 
compensated;  but  that  poor  boy  may  ask  and 
receive  the  amount,  not  in  view  of  his  own  claim, 
and  not  in  view  of  any  personal  good-will  alone 


236 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


of  the  banker  toward  his  benefactor,  but  in  view 
of  that  same  check.  So  may  a  poor  penitent 
soul  feel,  that  it  is  enough  if  God  and  Christ 
know,  as  perhaps  they  alone  know  fully,  the 
compensations  and  the  bearings  of  that  atone¬ 
ment.  It  is  enough  that  we  never  come  to  ask 
God’s  blessings  but  through  that  medium,  trust¬ 
ing,  see  we  more  or  less  clearly,  in  the  Lamb  of 
God,  that  taketh  away  the  sins  of  the  world. 
We  dare  present  no  prayer  to  God  which  Christ 
lias  not  endorsed — and  endorsed  in  his  ovTn  blood 
of  suffering. 

Thus,  as  by  the  abjuration  of  any  merit  or 
goodness  in  ourselves,  faith  admits,  negatively, 
the  circumstances  under  which  pardon  and  re¬ 
newal  are  to  be  granted :  so,  by  resting  on  the 
atonement,  faith  recognises,  positively,  the  true 
medium  of  salvation.  It  need  only  to  be  added 
that  this  .trust  is  for  a  present  fulfilment,  in  an¬ 
swer  to  our  present  prayer.  “Faith  is  a  sure  con¬ 
fidence,  which  a  man  hath  in  God,  that  through 
the  merits  of  Christ  his  sins  are  forgiven,  and  he 
reconciled  to  the  favour  of  God.” 

But  when  an  humble  penitent,  taking  his  true 
position  before  God,  and  yielding  all  other  hope, 
does  trust  in  God’s  promise  through  that  atone¬ 
ment,  thereupon  his  sins  are  pardoned,  and  he  is 


RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE - FAITH. 


237 


held  as  guiltless;  his  enslaved  will  has  power 
given  unto  it,  not  only  to  resist,  hut  to  overcome 
his  besetments ;  he  feels  that  instead  of  that 
strange  opposition  to  God  which  lurked  within, 
a  hearty  and  cordial  love  for  holiness  and  God 
has  entered ;  and  with  the  pure  love  toward  God 
there  come  all  pure  affections  toward  man. 

Xow,  this  reliance,  this  resting  on  God  s  prom¬ 
ise  for  Jesus's  sake,  is  what  is  commonly  called 
the  act  of  faith ;  an  act,  we  say,  because  it  in¬ 
volves  a  special  effort  of  the  will.  TT e  all  know 
how,  when  years  have  trained  us  into  habitual 

J  e/ 

impression  of  another's  unkind  feelings  toward  us, 
even  when  some  circumstances  which  misled  us 
are  explained  away,  yet  the  habitual  feeling  so 
occupies  the  mind,  that  only  a  sense  of  justice 
leads  us  to  say,  “I  know  how  false  my  prejudice 
has  been ;  I  know  all  is  explained ;  I  ought  to 
confide  in  him,  and  I  will  ''  So  the  long  unbe¬ 
lief  of  a  heart  unfits  the  soul  to  believe  that  God 
cau,  and  will,  and  does  forgive  it ;  and  with  all 
the  grace  bestowed  it  requires  an  effort  of  the 
soul  to  rely,  and  say,  I  icill  trust  his  mercy 
through  Christ.  Thus  the  act  of  faith  is  simply 
“ putting  our  trust''  in  the  atonement. 

But  there  is  also  to  be  noticed  a  power  of  ap¬ 
prehending  spiritual  things,  a  power  to  realize 


238 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


what  has  only  been  dimly  conceiyed  before, 
which,  because  it  does  take  cognizance  of  things 
beyond  the  range  of  the  natural  sight,  is  termed 
faith.  This  supernatural  recognition  of  God’s 
presence  and  fayour,  and  of  our  relations  to  him, 
and  indeed  of  all  eternal  things  previously  re¬ 
vealed  to  the  ear,  but  now  brought  home  to  the 
heart,  brings  up  before  the  Christian  a  new 
world.  More  and  more,  as  a  part  of  his  restored 
prerogatives,  this  faith  of  apprehension  grows 
stronger  and  stronger  from  the  moment  of  that 
first  ad  of  faith.  And  so  clear  and  easy  is  this 

c/ 

spiritual  vision  of  spiritual  facts  and  truths,  that 
the  soul's  reliance  upon  God,  which  at  first  re¬ 
quired  an  effort,  now  becomes  an  easy  and  spon¬ 
taneous  state  of  assurance. 

From  the  first  prayer  of  the  penitent,  a  low 
degree  of  this  faith  of  apprehension  is  given ; 
and  as  he  perseveres  in  self-distrust  and  self- 
denial,  it  grows  clearer  still :  he  realizes  the 
existence  of  the  solemn  interests  at  stake ;  he 
sees,  albeit  dimly,  the  fitness  of  the  plan  of  re¬ 
demption;  and  he  has  a  foundation  for  that  first 
ad  of  faith,  that  resolution  of  putting  his  trust  in 
Jesus.  As  he  presses  on  in  the  Christian  life, 
there  may  be  long  seasons  of  that  clear  appre¬ 
hension  which  makes  trust  an  easy,  almost  a 


RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE - FAITH. 


239 


spontaneous  reliance.  But  not  only  when  sin 
may  have  destroyed  the  Christian  s  communion 
with  the  Bather,  and  thrown  him  hack  to  his 
first  position,  hut  sometimes  under  temptations, 
under  peculiar  circumstances,  and  in  regard  to 
particular  points,  that  open  vision  and  easy  trust 
are  withdrawn,  and  the  soul  has  its  reliance  upon 
divine  truth  tested ,  and  retains  its  title  to  the 
promises,  only  hv  a  sustained  act  of  faith,  a 
dauntless  resolution  to  believe  and  rest  calmly, 
come  what  may. 

The  distinction  between  the  “faith  of  reliance” 
and  the  “faith  of  spiritual  apprehension,”  is  es¬ 
sential  to  any  clear  views  of  Scriptural  expres¬ 
sions.  The  trust  is  faith,  because  it  rests  upon 
a  promise,  and  upon  an  atonement  unseen,  and 
revealed  only  by  God.  The  spiritual  vision  is 
faith ,  because  it  apprehends  things  which  the 
natural  eve  hath  not  seen,  nor  the  natural  ear 
heard.  But  the  difference  is  marked.  God  does 
indeed,  by  his  own  power,  first  unasked,  and  then 
prayed  for,  bring  the  heart  to  that  point  where 
it  may  believe,- and  so  strengthen  it  that  it  can 
believe  ;  but  in  that  strength  the  heart  must  of 
its  own  free-will  act,  and  put  its  trust  in  the 
promise  of  God.  Power  to  believe,  is  not  ina¬ 
bility  to  disbelieve.  God  does  not  work  that 


240 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


faith  of  trust,  irresistibly;  he  gives  power  to 
trust,  and  then  calls  upon  the  heart  to  do  it. 

But  the  degree  of  spiritual  vision  of  “things 
eternal  and  unseen,”  depends  solely  upon  the 
pleasure  of  the  Mediator,  who  is  guiding  each 
child  of  God  to  perfection.  The  heart  may  in¬ 
deed  trust  more  easily  when  heaven  seems 
opened,  and  its  glories  are  revealed  ;  hut  its  true 
foundation  of  trust  is  the  word  of  God,  which 
abideth  the  same  although  the  glorious  vision 
passes  away.  The  Christian  is  like  one  led  to 
the  top  of  the  citadel  of  an  impregnable  fortress 
at  midnight :  he  is  required  to  enter  and  abide 
quietly  amid  all  alarms,  upon  the  simple  assur¬ 
ance  of  his  guide  that  he  is  safe.  The  glimmer¬ 
ing  moonbeams,  breaking  through  a  cloud,  may 
sometimes  disclose  the  strength  and  outline  of 
the  fortress  even  to  his  view ;  yet  his  faith  rests 
upon  his  guide :  for  when  the  clouds  may  again 
veil  all  from  sight,  his  faith  must  be  as  firm.  So 
the  Christian  relies  on  God’s  promises  of  pardon, 
and  adoption,  and  renewal,  however  his  light  and 
joyous  apprehension  of  divine  things  may  come 
and  go — only  looking  to  see  that  he  does  sincerely 
yield  his  will  to  God.  We  are  saved  by  faith — 
that  is,  by  trusting. 

If,  then,  God  pleases,  at  the  moment  of  an  ap- 


RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE - FAITH.  211 

propriating  faith,  to  let  the  great  change  be 
wrought,  it  is  not  for  us  to  hesitate  because  we 
cannot  see  any  merit  or  any  power  in  the  mere 
act  of  believing  or  trusting  God.  There  is  neither 
merit  nor  power  in  faith ;  the  Holy  Spirit  chooses 
that  moment  to  act — this  is  enough. 

Yet  little  as  we  can  see  in  faith  to  bring  the 
great  change,  we  can  see  much  in  a  want  of 
faith — in  unbelief — to  arrest,  or  keep  back  a 
bestowment  which  otherwise  would  be  given. 
In  heaven  no  one  thinks  it  any  special  virtue  to 
believe  and  trust  in  God ;  it  is  a  mere  matter  of 
course.  It  is  evident  that  a  created  and  finite 
mind  must  ever  meet,  in  the  dispensations  of  an 
infinite  God,  whose  arrangements  are  on  a  scale 
beyond  his  scope  of  vision,  much  to  perplex,  and 
much  perhaps  which  seems  not  only  unwise  but 
even  unjust.  The  only  basis  of  hearty  obedience 
and  cooperation  for  one  thus  perplexed,  must 
be  in  a  firm  faith  in  the  holiness  and  wisdom 
which  assigns  his  duties,  and  promises  his  needed 
strength,  and  overrules  all  things.  Perfect  con¬ 
fidence  in  Jehovah,  without  any  encouragement 
but  his  character  and  word,  is  the  preliminary 
and  fundamental  principle  of  love  and  obedience, 
wherever  created  beings  dwell — be  it  in  heaven 

or  on  earth.  In  all  the  arrangements  of  the  un- 

16 


4 


242 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


fallen  universe,  it  is  taken  for  granted  that  there 
is  this  implicit  confidence  in  the  wisdom,  holi¬ 
ness,  love,  and  truth  of  the  Father  of  spirits.  It 
is  presupposed  in  every  promise  which  God 
makes  to  angel  or  to  seraph,  that  they  rely  upon 
his  truth.  It  is  understood,  we  say,  and  need 
not  be  expressed.  But  should  they  look  up,  in 
a  moment  of  need,  for  the  new  blessing  promised 
to  their  prayer,  and  say,  or  think  it,  “I  doubt  the 
truth  of  God,”  that  doubt  would  cancel  every 
promise,  and  hurl  them  aside  as  insulters  of  the 
Most  High.  Could  they  ever  again  come  back, 
the  very  first  condition  must  be  a  rejection  of 
that  insulting  doubt — a  readiness  to  trust  them¬ 
selves  and  every  interest  upon  the  simple  word 
of  God.  It  is  not  that  any  merit  or  magical 
power  would  be  in  their  believing,  but  that  the 
hinderance  of  their  unbelief  is  gone. 

So,  when  a  ruined  race  is  to  be  restored,  and 
placed  upon  the  same  footing  as  the  whole  family 
of  God,  they  are  admitted  to  sonship  upon  resum¬ 
ing  that  simple  state  of  “  trust,”  which  all  must 
keep ;  and  as  God  has  promised  pardon  and  re¬ 
newal,  through  the  atonement,  to  them  that  for¬ 
sake  sin,  and  any  other  hope  of  acceptance,  the 
first  testing  of  a  willing  and  resolute  faith  in  God, 
is  that  promise  of  a  present  salvation  which  calls 


RELIGIOUS  EXPEK IEXCE - FAITH . 


243 


for  a  trust,  “that  I,  even  I,  am  a  child  of  God.” 
Until  the  heart  is  prepared  to  trust  God  for  this, 
it  cannot  trust  him  for  that  which  will  require 
faith  afterward.  This  is  only  the  first  lesson  and 

V 

exercise  of  a  faith  which  is  to  have  a  ceaseless 
exercise  through  eternity — to  say,  “I  rest  upon 
thy  promise,  and  I  am  reconciled.” 

So  deep  is  the  conviction  of  guilt  and  depravity 
in  most  who  with  “  hearty  repentance  turn  unto 
God,”  that,  with  all  the  strength  imparted  hv  the 
Holy  Spirit,  it  requires  a  most  intense  effort  to 
put  our  immediate  trust  in  the  atonement  for  a 
present  salvation.  The  answering  regeneration 
may  come  with  as  sudden  and  overpowering  joy, 
and  love,  and  vision  of  eternal  things ;  but  not 
always.  The  trust  may  seem  gradually  to  settle, 
and  acquire  full  strength ;  and  gradually  as  the 
breaking  day,  the  light  of  reconciliation — the 
peace,  the  love  of  God — may  dawn  upon  the 
confiding  spirit. 

Here  let  us  warn  the  intellectual  reader  to  be¬ 
ware  of  an  error  by  which  a  self-styled  spiritual¬ 
ism  has  striven  to  parody  the  facts  of  Chris¬ 
tian  experience  with  a  mere  sentimental  reverie. 
The  idea  is,  that  the  various  changes  of  principle, 
of  affection,  and  of  emotion,  which  follow  a  true 


244 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


act  of  faith,  are  not  to  be  regarded  as  in  any  wise 
supernatural — the  result  of  any  direct  energy  of 
the  Holy  Spirit  upon  the  heart — but  that  the 
regular  laws  of  mental  suggestion  and  succession, 
by  which  one  thought  or  feeling  produces  an¬ 
other.  will  account  for  all  the  phenomena  of 
Christian  experience.  The  act  of  faith,  there¬ 
fore,  is  not  merely  the  occasion  upon  which  God 
works  the  great  change,  but  is  in  itself  the  cause 
of  the  succeeding  change  in  the  heart.  Conver¬ 
sion  is  like  any  other  operation  of  the  mind. 

The  foundation  of  the  error  lies  in  the  fact, 
that  the  truths  of  the  gospel  ought  to  awaken 
within  the  heart  all  these  feelings  of  love  to  God 
and  devotion  to  holiness,  and  ought  to  stimulate 
to  moral  energy  .  In  a  heart  properly  sensitive , 
these  feelings  must  arise  when  the  truths  are 
properly  presented.  When,  therefore,  standing 
amid  these  motives  and  truths,  the  heart  is  filled 
with  appropriate  emotion,  the  conjecture  is  that 
the  effect  is  produced  by  a  natural  power,  with¬ 
out  a  divine  interposition. 

But  the  fallacy  is  in  supposing  that  the  heart 
is  properly  sensitive ;  for  the  very  change  to  be 
produced  is  the  restoration  of  the  heart  to  a 
proper  sensibility  to  spiritual  motives  and  influ¬ 
ences.  The  mystery  of  the  heart  has  been,  that 


RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE - FAITH. 


245 


through  long  years  it  could  have  the  great  truths 
of  redemption  pressed  upon  it,  and  yet  remain 
unaffected.  It  simply  realizes  that  it  ought  to 
feel,  and  yet  does  not.  And  even  when  pene¬ 
trated  with  a  sense  of  guilt,  and  earnest  in 
prayer  for  renewal,  the  bitter  consciousness  is, 
that  it  rebels  against  a  God  whom  it  ought  to 
love,  and  is  overcome  by  a  temptation  which  it 
ought  to  crush  like  a  moth.  When,  after  long 
waiting: — in  full  view  of  all  these  truths  and  mo- 
tives — the  heart  sees  no  more  clearly,  and  is  no 
less  dead  to  them  than  before,  the  same  defect 
which  renders  all  these  truths  powerless,  would 
vitiate  any  natural  influence  of  a  mere  reliance 
on  the  atonement.  But  when  the  penitent  trusts, 
then  God  gives  the  new  nature ,  and  its  new  sen¬ 
sibility,  and  thus  creates  the  love,  and  joy,  and 
peace.  After  that ,  the  various  motives,  acting 
„  on  a  soul  now  duly  sensitive  to  their  influence, 
will  indeed  deepen  and  animate  the  feelings 
which  before  they  could  not  arouse. 

Had  God  chosen,  as  the  occasion  of  his  new 
creation,  a  condition  of  salvation  in  no  way  con¬ 
nected  with  the  result,  every  one  would  have 
given  to  his  interposing  grace  the  honour  of  the 
work.  But  we  must  feel  that  although  there  may 
be  in  certain  truths  an  adaptation  to  impress  the 


246 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


heart,,  yet  that  adaptation  does  not  obviate  the 
need  of  a  direct  interposition  of  the  Holy  Spirit. 
Iron  may  be  heated  to  a  certain  degree  in  com¬ 
mon  air,  and  with  that  given  degree  of  heat  may 
remain  unconsumed,  only  tending  to  combustion ; 
but  if  oxygen  he  poured  around  it,  with  the  same 
heat  applied,  it  burns  with  brilliant  coruscations. 
So  there  may  be  a  natural  tendency  in  all  the 
motives  and  views  presented  by  the  gospel,  to 
awaken  love  and  inspire  a  pure  devotion,  if  only 
the  heart  were  duly  susceptible  of  their  power ; 
yet  this  tendency  remains  but  a  tendency,  so  long 
as  the  sorrow-stricken  heart  delavs  that  act  of 

c / 

faith ;  then,  upon  the  new  heart,  the  tendency 
becomes  an  actual  power.  This,  then,  is  the  act 
of  regeneration  on  the  part  of  God,  following  that 
act  of  reliance  on  the  part  of  man,  which  is  the 
condition  of  salvation. 

The  separate  particulars  of  that  change 
wrought  in  the  soul,  we  have  already  alluded  to. 
The  slaverv  of  the  will  which  had  continued 
even  amid  penitence  and  prayer  is  in  a  moment, 
it  may  be,  broken  forever.  It  has  a  power  given 
it  to  overcome  its  besetments,  as  it  was  of  old 
overcome  by  them.  Hot  as  a  light  labour  may 
it  be  that  all  duties  are  done  and  all  sin  forsaken, 
but  it  is  a  mighty  revolution  which  effects  their 


RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE - FAITH. 


247 


performance  at  all.  The  young  Christian  is  half 
astonished  at  his  own  success.  Yet  if,  by  the 

'  o 

strange  power  of  choice  inherent  in  his  will,  he 
shall  turn  back  to  any  sin,  that  overcoming 
power  will  fail,  and  only  by  a  fresh  and  penitent 
reliance  on  the  atonement  can  it  be  regained. 

And  so  there  is  inwrought  a  new  love  to  God— 
a  love  vdiich  gives  itself  awray,  and  asks  only  to 
be  loved — a  love  spontaneous  in  a  nature  now 
akin  to  the  divine.  The  old  principle  of  self- 
wdll  and  pride,  which  swept  away  all  nobler 
thoughts,  is  supplanted  by  a  pure  and  self-sacri¬ 
ficing  affection  vdiich  subdues  all  opposition. 
And  vet  self-will  is  not  at  once  eradicated. 
Subdued  and  crushed  beneath  a  conquering  love, 
it  yet  may  struggle  as  it  dies ;  but  it  writhes  in 
a  perpetual  defeat.  For  although  conscious  of 
some  influence  from  unworthy  motives,  yet  we 
feel  that  the  nobler  love  prevails  against  them. 
W e  take  that  inferior  principle  daily  before  God 
in  prayer ;  and  as  we  recount  his  promises,  and 
rest  on  his  atonement  as  the  meritorious  ground 
of  their  bestowment,  we  receive  the  grace  which 
yet  more  gives  supremacy  to  love. 

And  as  the  fountain  is  purified,  the  streams 
grow  pure.  Every  pure  affection  and  holy  senti¬ 
ment  springs  up  in  the  heart.  They,  too,  pre* 


248 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


vail,  each  over  its  own  antagonistic  vice,  although 
these  impure  feelings  still  linger  as  long  as  the 
selfishness  in  which  they  all  have  root.  Ho  evil 
thought  or  feeling  is  tolerated  now.  All  virtue 
is  loved,  all  duties  are  sacred.  Each  low  and 
selfish  sentiment  that  rises  to  view  is  loathed 
and  spurned  as  a  foul  intruder  soon  to  he  de¬ 
stroyed. 

Here  is  it  that  the  Christian,  rejoicing  in 
conscious  pardon  and  adoption,  and  assured  of 
the  glorious  renovation  already  supreme  within 
him,  may  yet  experience  the  benefit  of  that  same 
system  of  morality,  with  its  prudential  and  in¬ 
stinctive  motives,  which  were  once  everything 
to  him.  The  common  round  of  life  affords  a  test 
and  a  temptation  to  every  separate  evil  impulse 
of  which  the  heart  is  capable.  If  a  poor,  imper¬ 
fect  heart  were  thus  assailed  on  every  side,  how 
perpetual  would  be  the  harassment  of  watching 
against  so  many  and  incessant  assaults.  Hardly 
could  it  be  endured  with  our  young  and  feeble 
energy.  But  when,  by  these  natural  dispositions 
to  correct  action,  we  are  saved  from  the  force  of 
temptation  on  many  points,  the  attention  is  left 
undistracted  to  guard  those  points  where  the 
natural  evil  of  our  hearts  is  not  thus  repressed. 
The  Christian,  whose  temper  has  always  been 


RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE - FAITH, 


249 


repressed  and  concealed  beneath  a  constitutional 
amiability,  may  be  able  to  bear  a  severer  con¬ 
flict  with  a  less  repressed  impulse  to  covetousness, 
than  if  passion  and  avarice  at  once  assailed  him. 
The  evils  of  the  soul  are  like  wrestlers  who 
would  hurl  it  to  the  dust :  should  all  assail  it,  all 
at  once,  it  might  be  bewildered  and  overcome ; 
but  if  one  or  two  only  are  permitted  to  task  its 
energies,  it  may  struggle  hopefully,  and  yet 
learn  how  weak  it  is,  and  how  strong  those  evils 
are.  The  heart  may  not  realize  its  weakness  in 
regard  to  those  passions  or  vices,  the  disposition 
to  which  is  repressed  by  God  beneath  an  in¬ 
stinctive  virtue ;  but  from  the  strength  of  these 
few  evils  in  which  the  depravity  of  its  nature  is 
clearly  embodied,  it  can  learn  how  intense  that 
depravity  is. 

And  more  than  this :  The  Christian  may  be 
made  to  see  his  sinfulness,  even  beneath  those 
natural  virtues  which  have  prompted  and  do 
prompt  his  noblest  conduct.  Lurking  even 
within  them  he  detects  the  opposite  vices,  wdiose 
existence  he  had  never  suspected  before.  There 
is  nothing  strange  in  the  still  lingering  influence 
of  passions  which  once  had  undisputed  sway ; 
but  that  Christians,  as  they  grow  in  conscious 
power,  should  find  vices  of  feeling,  and  a  sensi- 


250 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


bility  to  low  motives,  wrliicli  they  never  felt  be¬ 
fore ,  is  strange  indeed.  Moralists  who  do  rever¬ 
ence  religious  experience,  must  be  sadly  per¬ 
plexed  in  reading  the  biographies  of  men  for 
whom  nature  had  done  wonders,  and  in  whom 
grace  wrought  gloriously,  to  hear  them  accusing 
themselves  of  passions  and  motives  which,  even 
when  unconverted,  they  never  betrayed,  and 
which  were  clearly  substituted  by  noble  senti¬ 
ments.  W ere  these  holy  men  morbid  and  unjust 
to  their  own  natures?  Mo!  but  the  evils  which 
were  repressed  and  concealed,  for  the  general 
benefit,  so  long  as  no  divine  power  was  invoked 
to  give  a  nobler  principle,  and  which  even  in 
earlier  stages  of  experience  were  hidden  beneath 
the  natural  virtues,  are  revealed  now  that  the 
will  can  overcome  them,  and  our  trust  in  the 
love  of  God  can  bear  up  our  astonished  hearts. 
Strange  that  men  of  mildest  temper  should  find 
irritableness  and  anger  springing  up,  even  as 
some  spiritual  blessing  proves  their  communion 
with  God.  Strange  that  what  we  have  thought 
a  generous  nature  should  feel  a  selfish  purpose 
rising  through  his  generosity,  like  a  deeper 
stratum  of  the  soul  jutting  up  through  the  peace¬ 
ful  surface.  The  natural  power  of  the  instinctive 
sentiment  may  still  continue,  and  secure  the 


RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCE - FAITH. 


251 


outward  action,  and  even  the  accustomed  tone ; 

j  y 

and  vet  a  hard  struggle  may  no  on  against  the 
rising  of  the  baser  remnant  of  an  evil  nature. 
Thus,  when  the  Searcher  and  the  Refiner  of 
hearts  has  led  us  to  realize  the  depth  and  'bitter¬ 
ness  of  our  depravity,  by  those  few  desires  and 
temptations  which  were  never  held  back  by  an 
instinctive  virtue,  he  seems  to  lead  the  soul 

j 

through  each  separate  department  of  its  nature, 
and  show  it  the  entireness  of  its  depravity.  The 
pure  feelings  which  came  in  where  none  had  ever 
been  before,  were  evidently  created  by  the  Spirit's 
working  in  answer  to  the  prayer  of  faith.  From 
the  first,  the  heart  has  felt  that  thev  are  not  its 
own.  but  momently  received  from  the  Mediator's 

'  t/ 

hand  as  a  fresh  bestowment.  The  other  impulses, 
which  we  called  our  better  nature,  seemed  like 
our  own.  apart  from  restoring  grace.  But  the 

y  Jl  O  g 

Christian  is  taught,  as  he  can  bear  it,  that  God 
will  let  him  claim  no  virtue  as  his  bv  nature, 

fj  y 

and  feel  no  exultation.  He  shall  hold  every 

t 

power  and  capability  of  good,  immediately  and 
momently,  as  the  gift  of  the  inworking  and  sus- 
taining  Spirit.  "When  the  moral  scaffolding  of 
religion  falls  awav,  the  momently-received  life 
in  the  soul  will  stand  the  same.  Through  all 
eternity  we  hold  our  life  by  faith. 


252 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


Thus,  we  are  saved  by  faith.  Not  so  much  by 
the  faith  of  apprehension,  which  opens  to  us 
more  and  more  of  the  spiritual  world ;  but  by 
that  simple  resting  upon  Christ  to  do  for  us,  and 
in  us,  what  we  cannot  do  ourselves.  Consciously 
as  a  child,  held  and  guided  in  the  firm  grasp  of 
a  father’s  hand,  the  soul  feels  itself  upheld  by  a 
supernatural  strength.  Consciously,  as  when  an 
electric  current  thrills  new  energy  through  the 
frame,  the  soul  feels  the  presence  of  an  energy 
not  its  own.  It  comprehends  the  experience  of 
the  great  apostle:  “I  live;  yet  not  I,  but  Christ 
liveth  in  me  :  and  the  life  which  I  live,  I  live  by 
faith  in  the  Son  of  God.” 


XI. 


Iiotre  to  Coi  tlje  Criterion  of  Virtue. 


“Talk  they  of  morals?  0  thou  bleeding  Love 
Thou  giver  of  new  morals  to  mankind — 

The  grand  morality  is  love  of  Thee.” 


YOTTN'G. 


XI. 


LOVE  TO  GOD,  THE  CRITERION  OF  VIRTUE. 

We  solicit  the  attention  of  the  ingenuous  student 
of  his  own  Heart,  to  a  brief  consideration  of  one 
point  more,  before  He  finally  concludes  tfie  inter¬ 
pretation  of  its  moral  destiny. 

Religion  is,  in  its  broadest  principle,  the  love 
of  Holiness ;  and  we  Have  all  along  conceded  that 
the  love  of  God  is  but  one  manifestation  of  it. 
We  avoided  the  embarrassment  of  considering 
religion  merely  as  a  personal  reverence  exacted 
by  the  Deity  in  virtue  of  His  supremacy,  without 
regard  to  the  assiduity  with  which  we  discharge 
all  other  and  more  palpable  duties.  We  have  ap¬ 
pealed  directly  to  that  intuitive  sense  of  rectitude 
which  none  dispute ;  and  we  have  only  demanded 
that  disinterested  devotion  to  the  right  which  all 
feel  to  be  the  very  essence  of  piety.  In  address¬ 
ing  those  who  are  tempted  to  bring  forward  their 
undeniable  rectitude  of  conduct,  and  their  many 
social  virtues,  as  evidence  of  true  piety,  and  as 
an  offset  against  any  want  of  evidence  of  love  to 


256 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


God,  we  have  met  them  upon  their  own  ground, 
and,  admitting  their  virtues,  have  proven  that, 
however  beautiful  they  appeared,  they  were  un¬ 
reliable,  and  might  he  altogether  spurious. 

Yet  certainly,  however  unreliable  such  a  rare 
combination  of  instinctive  dispositions  may  he, 
we  have  ourselves  admitted  that  a  truly  harmo- 
nious  character  will  be  produced  by  a  true  prin¬ 
ciple  ;  and  therefore  such  an  exhibition  may  he 
genuine.  If,  therefore,  any  one  shall  claim  that 
beneath  a  rare  and  well-balanced  assemblage  of 
spontaneous  virtues,  he  has  also  a  conscious  def¬ 
erence  for  the  principle  of  moral  obligation,  and 
a  sentiment  of  pleasure  in  the  advancement  of  all 
good,  it  will  present  to  the  analyst  of  human  na¬ 
ture  a  problem  of  the  deepest  interest ;  especially 
when,  as  may  be  the  case,  there  is  nevertheless  a 
positive  aversion  to  what  he  may  please  to  term 
the  cant  of  religion,  its  definite  exercises  of  wor¬ 
ship,  and  its  vivid  inward  experiences. 

A  sufficient  solution  of  the  question  is  found 
by  an  application  of  the  same  principle  which 
appears,  so  far  as  all  the  virtues  elicited  by 
human  relations  are  concerned,  so  perfectly  tc 
demonstrate  the  genuineness  of  his  virtues :  it 
is  to  be  demanded  that  the  same  “  love  of  ex¬ 
cellence”  which  appears  to  manifest  itself  in 


CRITERION  OF  TERTTE. 


257 


every  form  of  relative  goodness,  shall  be  as  evi¬ 
dent  in  that  highest  form  which  is  due  to  Him 
whose  relations  to  ns  call  for  the  highest  mani- 
testations  of  love  of  which  the  heart  is  capable. 
If  love  to  God  he  but  one  form  of  the  love  of 
rectitude,  it  is  one  form — a  form  which  never 
can  he  absent  from  the  principle  itself. 

Is  there  anv  extravagance  in  demanding  for 
God,  a  regard  as  definite,  as  vivid  in  its  personal 
consciousness,  as  marked  in  all  its  natural  indi¬ 
cations,  as  anv  human  claims  can  elicit  ?  There 
>  «/ 

is  no  intrinsic  1  weliness  in  anv  human  character, 

v  * 

hut  its  beautv  lies  in  a  faint  resemblance  to  the 

ti 

divine  mind ;  there  is  no  peculiar  and  touching 
sentiment  implied  in  earthly  relationship,  which 
God  has  not  employed  to  convey  an  inadequate 
illustration  of  his  care  and  sympathy ;  and  every 
thrill  of  gratitude  that  direct  kindness  can  awa- 
ken,  will  find,  as  it  breathes  the  praise  of  its  ben¬ 
efactor,  that  the  earthlv  friend  and  his  kindness 
are  both  but  a  providence  of  the  one  great  Friend. 
So  that  every  intrinsic  claim  upon  our  esteem 
and  love,  and  every  motive  to  a  personal  grati¬ 
tude  which  gleams  out  from  human  hearts,  are 
but  scattered  rays  from  his  perfect  character, 
dimmed  and  broken  by  the  imperfect  media 

through  which  thev  shine.  Ought  not  He  in 

l? 


258 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


whom  all  other  claims  are  combined  and  blended 
into  one  glorious  character,  to  receive  from  us 
an  intensity  of  devotion  equal  at  the  least  to  the 
united  force  of  all  subordinate  regards  ? 

But  without  annoying  the  cultivated  reader 
with  any  analogies  between  divine  and  human 
claims,  let  us  dwell  upon  that  one  principle  of 
love  to  purity  and  excellence,  which  his  own 
consciousness  attests  him  to  possess.  He  has  a 
right  to  a  deferential  hearing  when  he  avers  that 
he  has  not  only  a  sense  of  the  obligation  of  duty, 
and  not  only  a  perception  of  the  beauty  of  vir¬ 
tue,  but  also  a  true  and  hearty  love  for  virtue 
itself. 

Xow  no  reflecting  mind  will  hesitate  to  admit 
that  an  absorbing  love  for  any  attribute  of  char¬ 
acter  will  always  be  attracted  to  the  character 
which  embodies  and  realizes  it  most  fully.  It  is 
not  enough  that  the  love  of  any  principle  impels 
to  appropriate  action,  and  to  endeavours  to  spread 
the  sway  of  that  principle  over  other  minds :  it 
also  fills  the  heart  with  a  spontaneous  affection 
toward  a  kindred  spirit  who  manifests  the  same 
sentiment.  We  love  not  only  the  principles  of 
perfectly  congenial  hearts — we  love  those  hearts 
themselves.  The  devotion  to  those  principles 
may  have  been  the  slow  growth  of  years ;  unper- 


CRITERION  OF  VIRTUE. 


259 


ceived,  it  may  be,  by  tlie  soul  itself ;  but  the  full 
heart  claims  immediate  fellowship  with  one 
whose  word  or  deed  reveals  the  same  master- 
sentiment.  If  God  is  purity  itself,  a  combina¬ 
tion  of  faultless  moral  attributes,  how  can  it  be 
that  a  heart  imbued  with  a  love  for  all  these 
qualities,  in  the  abstract,  shall  see  his  perfection 
as  it  is  revealed  unto  us,  and  fail  to  love,  not  his 
attributes  alone,  but  himself,  and  that  supremely? 
Is  it  not  even  true,  that  a  kindred  spirit  and 
genius  will  be  recognised  by  a  congenial  mind, 
even  under  circumstances  which  conceal  its  full 
character  from  all  others  ?  A  word,  a  look,  a  tone, 
are  enough  to  suggest  the  hidden  character,  and 
the  enthusiastic  heart  turns  earnestly  to  search 
for  the  deep  veins  of  gold  which  thus  glisten 
through  the  surface  rubbish.  So,  if  revelation 
were  but  dim,  and  there  were  no  direct  teaching 
of  the  Spirit  vouchsafed,  a  holy  heart,  a  heart 
filled  with  a  supreme  love  of  moral  excellence, 
would  recognise  with  delight  its  great  original 
and  love  him  with  supreme  affection.  But  with 
so  clear  a  revelation  of  the  divine  character,  and 
wfith  such  an  express  recognition  of  him  as  the 
perfection  of  all  moral  attributes  on  the  part  of 
the  moralist,  it  is  sheer  absurdity  to  profess  any 
deep  love  of  holiness,  which  is  not  drawn  to 


260 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


him  personally,  and  does  not  find  in  him  its 
ideal,  its  all  in  all. 

1.  The  tests  of  personal  affection  are  familiar  to 
us  all.  Love,  in  its  most  general  definition,  is 
the  desire  of  another's  happiness ;  and  this  hap¬ 
piness  is  but  the  satisfaction  of  those  various 
wants  and  desires  of  which  the  heart  is  conscious. 
Affection  may  anticipate  many  of  the  wishes  of 
another ;  yet,  as  each  heart  has  its  peculiar  and 
varying  wants,  we  take  the  expressed  wishes  of 
a  friend  as  the  guide  to  his  happiness ;  and  com¬ 
pliance,  or  obedience,  is  the  sure  result.  We 
may  indeed  refuse  a  request,  if  our  more  expe¬ 
rienced  judgment  declares  that  the  wish  is  based 
upon  mistaken  grounds,  and  would  not  prove 
what  is  anticipated.  And  so  we  may  be  em¬ 
barrassed  by  conflicting  wishes,  and  requests  at 
variance  with  moral  principle.  But  in  a  case 
where  no  error  of  judgment  can  call  for  our  cor¬ 
rection,  and  where  no  conflicting  interest  can 
enter,  and  where  no  variance  from  moral  recti¬ 
tude  is  involved,  the  pure  heart  that  loves  an¬ 
other,  cannot  but  spring  to  comply  with  the  ex¬ 
pression  of  its  will.  "We  appeal  to  the  common 
experience  in  all  the  relations  of  love  which  we 
sustain,  if  such  is  not  the  principle  and  its  opera- 


CRITERION  OF  VIRTUE. 


261 


tion,  and  if  such  would  not  be  its  development 
toward  that  perfect  character  who  claims  to  be 
loved  with  all  the  heart.  For  although  human¬ 
ity  can  make  good  no  claim  to  such  prompt  and 
unconflicting  obedience  to  every  wish,  yet  may 
Jehovah  claim  even  this.  The  slightest  expres¬ 
sion  of  his  will  must  be  paramount  in  influence, 
— the  minutest  command,  a  spur  to  action. 

Love,  in  its  earthly  manifestations,  not  only 
complies  with  the  wishes  of  its  objects  when  re¬ 
fusal  would  bring  them  loss  or  pain;  but  even 
where  it  knows  that  events  may  occur  to  make 
them  forget  or  overlook  the  disobedience,  or  may 
compensate  the  effect  of  our  negligence,  there  is 
still  a  mysterious  impulse  to  respect  their  desires. 
Even  when  death  has  borne  them  from  us,  or 
distance  formed  a  barrier  which  prevents  their 
knowledge  of  our  action,  yet  love  is  drawn  to 
respect  their  known  principles;  and  we  do  as 
they  would  wish  to  have  us  do,  could  they  but 
know  our  action.  And  thus,  although  the  sum 
of  God's  felicity  may  not  be  impaired  by  our 
conduct,  yet  a  heart  that  loves  him  finds  in  that 
thought  no  relief  from  the  sweet  obligation  of 
obedience.  Aside  from  all  personal  claim  on 
our  affections,  God  might  claim  obedience  from 
the  pure  in  heart  in  virtue  of  that  perfect  wisdom 


262 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


which  alone  can  lay  down  the  unerring  path  of 
holiness  through  eternity.  But  it  is  not  only  as  the 
chief  engineer  of  the  way  of  holiness  that  God’s 
words  are  to  bind  the  holy  soul ;  that  way  is  not 
only  approved  by  his  official  wisdom,  but  loved 
by  his  heart.  The  appeal  is  not  official,  but  per¬ 
sonal  :  “If  ye  love  me,  keep  my  commandments.” 

Obedience,  therefore, — obedience  for  God's 
sake ,  as  well  as  for  the  sake  of  the  right, — is  an 
essential  evidence  of  love  to  God,  and  therefore 
of  a  genuine  regard  to  purity  and  rectitude. 

2.  Inseparable  from  true  affection,  is  the  in¬ 
stinctive  desire  of  approval,  and  of  a  responsive 
love,  from  the  object  of  affection.  If  for  the 
time  it  cannot  secure  such  a  recognition,  true 
affection  will  still  persist  in  advancing  the  hap¬ 
piness  and  anticipating  the  wants  of  another,  in 
patient  labour ;  but  yet  it  longs  for  this  return, 
and  feels  its  absence,  and  finds  its  highest  j  oy  at 
last  in  the  consciousness  that  the  regard  is  mu¬ 
tual.  However  we  may  admit  the  excellence 
of  another’s  character,  yet  if  we  love  him  not, 
we  may  be  indifferent  to  his  regard.  But  if 
pure  affection  for  him  once  enters,  it  cannot  be : 
Love  never  rests  unloved. 

The  soul,  therefore,  that  never  woke  to  a  love 


CRITERION  OF  VIRTUE. 


263 


of  its  Creator,  may  rest  in  the  quietude  of  indiffer¬ 
ence,  beneath  a  doubt  of  his  favour,  and  the  ab¬ 
sence  of  the  tokens  of  his  love.  All  that  it  has 
to  do  is  to  manage  the  question  of  expediency, 
as  to  its  probable  future  welfare.  If  it  can  be 
calm  apart  from  the  question  of  God’s  personal 
opinion  and  feelings,  it  can  be  very  calm.  But 
the  soul  that  loves  God  cannot  bear  suspense  as 
to  his  estimate  of  its  affection.  It  may  feel  un¬ 
worthy  of  his  love,  but  it  is  pained  to  feel  un¬ 
worthy,  and  yearns  for,  and  hopes  for  purifica¬ 
tion  and  his  blessing.  Xot  only  the  heart  that 
has  once  felt  the  clear  sense  of  divine  favour,  but 
the  soul  that  as  yet  has  not  enjoyed  it,  if  it  be¬ 
gins  to  love  him,  “panteth  after  God’s”  love. 
The  diaries  of  the  purest  among  the  pious  show 
how  their  souls  yearned  for  this  assurance  of  his 
favour,  for  its  own  sake.  It  was  not  enough  for 
them  to  do  right ;  it  was  not  enough  to  have  the 
consciousness  of  doing  right ;  they  demanded 
something  beyond  the  approval  of  their  own 
hearts :  the  sense  of  a  personal  recognition  was 
their  one  great  aspiration. 

3.  Love  not  only  longs  to  do  the  will  and  to 
secure  the  distant  approval  of  its  object,  but  it 
must  have  communion  and  mutual  expression  of 


264 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


thought  and  feeling.  We  love  the  society  of 
those  whom  we  love.  Even  where  a  friend  may, 

*  t  / 

in  moral  or  social  capacities,  be  inferior  to  our¬ 
selves,  and  repulsive  to  our  sentiments,  yet  still 
the  social  power  of  love  is  shown  by  its  tolera¬ 
tion  of  defects  which  would  exclude  all  others, 
by  its  vain  hopes  of  reform  and  magic  changes, 
as  it  clings  to  the  society  and  watches  the  inter¬ 
ests  of  its  idol.  Where  no  such  obstacle  inter¬ 
venes,  love  will  have  a  full  communion.  In 
proportion  as  it  feels  itself  understood,  it  will 
share  its  sorrows  and  its  joys,  and  breathe  its 
hopes  and  fears.  The  mere  presence  of  the 
loved  is  grateful.  Mutual  expression  of  interest 
is  dearer  still.  To  be  aided  by  the  hand  we  love 
is  sweet,  and  to  acknowledge  its  kindness  is  a 
luxury.  And  if  there  be  not  such  a  thing  as 
communion,  personal  and  direct,  with  God,  those 
who  love  him  will  feel  the  deficiency  •  and  if 
they  believe  it  possible,  they  will  seek  until  they 
can  talk  with  God,  as  friend  with  friend.  If  the 
Bible  marks  out  a  state  of  soul  in  which  the  com¬ 
munion  is  so  constant  and  so  sensible  that  it  ful¬ 
fils  the  promise  of  the  Saviour,  “My  Father  will 
love  him,  and  we  will  come  unto  him,  and  make 
our  abode  with  him,”  how  can  one  that  loves 
him  feel  satisfied  without  it  ? 


CBITEEIOX  OF  TTRTUF. 


265 


If.  then,  a  true  devotion  to  abstract  excellence 
must  produce  a  love  to  the  all-perfect  One ;  if 
the  invariable  expressions  of  such  a  love  are  a 
personal  obedience,  and  a  yearning  for  personal 
tokens  of  approval,  and  a  desire  for  the  fullest 
intercourse  of  soul  with  soul ;  if  hearty  thanks¬ 
giving  for  kindness  shown,  and  spontaneous  ex¬ 
pression  of  our  cares  and  our  griefs,  and  delight 
in  the  sense  of  dependence  on  one  beloved,  and 
direct  requests  for  an  aid  never  refused,  be  the 
natural  embodiments  of  such  a  love  :  upon  what 
principle  of  reasoning  is  it  that  a  mere  vague 
reverence  to  attributes  of  character — a  reverence 
which  no  human  heart  could  receive  as  a  sub¬ 
stitute  for  the  personal  regard  it  demands — is  to 
be  palmed  upon  .Jehovah  as  a  satisfactory  equiv¬ 
alent  for  the  personal  devotion  which  is  denied 
him  i 

TTe  admit  that  analogies  sometimes  fail,  and 

C7  7 

are  not  to  be  insisted  upon  too  rmidlv.  If 

■w  «/ 

among  those  who  as  a  class  have  evinced  the 
highest  spirit  of  piety  and  practical  goodness, 
there  is  found  no  sentiment  of  affection  toward 
the  Father  of  spirits,  and  no  expressions  of  per¬ 
sonal  regard  bevond  an  abstract  reverence,  then 

«/  * 

we  must  admit  that  there  is  nothing  more  to  be 
demanded  of  anv  one. 


266 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


Blit  if,  in  every  age  and  in  every  grade  of 
intellect  and  culture,  there  has  been  a  distinct 
avowal  of  an  actual  experience  corresponding 
with  what  analogy  would  lead  us  to  expect ;  if 
men  who  have  not  culture  or  sensibility  enough 
to  know  much  about  abstract  rectitude,  do  avow 
a  burning  love  to  God  himself ;  if  men,  whose 
sensitive  and  cultured  minds  had  long  felt  all  the 
general  sentiment  which  is  so  much  relied  on,  de¬ 
clare  that  they  have  had  a  distinct  experience 
sujperadded  to  this,  and  give  every  expression  of 
a  personal  devotion  which  the  analogies  of  com¬ 
mon  life  could  suggest;  if  the  Bible-experience 
breathes  the  glowing  spirit,  and  the  written  testi¬ 
mony  of  unimpeachable  saints  in  former  days 
confirm  its  existence,  and  on  every  side,  amid  all 
the  formality  and  hypocrisy,  earnest  hearts  of 
every  natural  variety  and  educational  bias,  de¬ 
clare  that  they  have  found  “  the  love  of  God  shed 
abroad  in  the  heart,” — how  can  the  candid  man 
of  mere  integrity  and  virtuous  impulses  banish 
the  conviction,  that  his  own  soul  has  not  the  love 
of  God,  and  therefore  not  the  genuine  love  of 
rectitude  itself  ?  * 

°  If  the  man  of  religious  sentiment  will  look  through  a 
volume  of  hymns,  such  as  are  used  in  our  churches,  he  may 
be  surprised  by  observing  that  he  can  enter  into  most  of  the 


CRITERION  OF  VIRTUE. 


267 


But  another  aspect  of  this  subject  deserves 
attention.  As  yet  we  have  only  insisted  upon 
love  to  God,  with  all  its  peculiar  expressions,  as 
a  virtue  equally  indispensable  with  the  relative 
virtues,  in  establishing  the  genuineness  of  a  re¬ 
ligious  experience.  We  desire  now  to  show  that, 
while  relative  duties  are  presupposed,  yet  the 
most  important  and  reliable  test  of  a  true  love 
of  rectitude  is  in  the  consciousness  and  the  pe 
culiar  fruits  of  love  to  God. 

The  reason  is  clear  from  our  previous  pages. 
In  order  to  the  practicability  of  a  probation,  it  is 
found  needful  that  social  order  should  be  pre¬ 
served,  even  where  no  moral  purity  exists;  and 
therefore  God  has  imparted  instinctive  virtues, 
parallel  to  the  true  qualities  which  result  from 

expressions  of  reverence  for  general  principles,  and  most  of 
the  references  to  practical  duties :  but  that  large  class  of 
hymns  which  speak  of  the  “  presence,  the  smile,  the  fellow¬ 
ship,  and  personal  manifestations  of  God,”  appear  to  be  very 
poor  poetry,  and  very  extravagant  language.  Yet  the  writers 
of  these  hymns,  men  and  women  of  the  highest  taste  and 
judgment,  felt  them  to  be  both  just  and  dignified  :  so  do 
many  who  sing  them  now.  It  might  suggest  to  the  critic  of 
evangelical  expressions,  the  possibility  that  the  only  reason 
why  so  much  appears  to  him  the  empty  verbiage  of  cant,  is 
because  he  has  not  religious  experience  enough  to  under¬ 
stand  it. 


268 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


moral  excellence.  Many  of  the  actions  and  many 
of  the  emotions  which  would  be  produced  by 
genuine  relative  virtues,  are  necessarily  brought 
to  pass  by  this  scheme  of  preparatory  motives. 
It  is  this  which  renders  an  appeal  to  human  vir¬ 
tue  so  fallacious.  But  to  the  continuance  of 
society  and  probation,  the  conduct  which  pecul¬ 
iarly  marks  the  love  of  God  is  not  requisite. 
God  may  not  be  in  all  their  thoughts,  and  yet 
men  may  go  through  the  usual  labours  and  good 
offices  of  life.  Idolatry,  superstition,  practical 
atheism — all  hold  sway  over  successive  genera¬ 
tions  in  various  countries ;  and  yet  they  live,  and 
love,  and  labour,  and  are  capable  of  receiving  or 
rejecting  a  higher  life.  Men  have  no  secondary 
motive  for  a  personal  devotion  to  Deity — for 
delight  in  prayer,  and  praise,  and  communion, 
which  can  usurp  the  place  of  love.  Even  amid 
Christian  influences,  therefore,  the  many  who  are 
moulded  and  prompted  by  high  natural  virtue 
to  virtuous  relative  action,  are  seldom  found  de¬ 
lighting  in  those  personal  exercises  of  devotion 
which  are  left  at  their  option.  The  closet  is, 
therefore,  absolutely  requisite  to  confirm  the  ap¬ 
probation  of  the  market-place.  The  duties  of 
social  morality  may  be  produced  either  by  a 
true  or  a  spurious  virtue ;  the  duties  of  a  glad 


CRITERION  OF  VIRTUE. 


269 


and  constant  devotion  to  God  are  the  fruit  of 
true  virtue  only.  However,  therefore,  the  social 
virtues  and  general  sentiments  are  always  pre¬ 
supposed,’  and  no  profession  of  religion  can  be 
respected  where  these  are  wanting,  yet  no  one 
may  rely  on  the  genuineness  of  any  experi¬ 
ence  which  is  not  sealed  by  an  evident  love  to 
God. 


We  must  not  be  understood  to  depreciate  the 
example  of  Him  who  went  about  doing  good, 
and  healing  ail  of  whatsoever  plagues  they  had. 
"W e  know  that  the  Church  is  often  charged  with 
wasting  in  abstract  devotion  the  energy  which 
might  by  timely  action  regenerate  the  world. 
It  is  not  true.  The  Church  has  ever  striven 
to  meliorate  the  temporal  evils  which  she  has 
seen  to  be  within  her  reach ;  and  her  individual 
membership  have,  as  their  piety  brightened, 
done  what  they  could  in  a  private  sphere.  It 
is  only  within  a  few  brief  years  that  men  not 
in  official  stations  have  dared  to  look  at  great 
social  evils,  and  feel  that  voluntary  association 
might  relieve  them.  The  Church  has  gained, 
not  a  new  spirit,  but  the  consciousness  of  a  new 
power.  The  membership  of  the  Church  is  ready 
and  waiting  to  work,  when  they  see  clearly  what 


2T0 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


to  do — and  they  Trill  do  it  in  the  love  of  both  God 
and  man. 

Yet  all  these  temporal  evils  are  palpable  to 
any  observer  ;  and  they  appeal  to  the  common 
and  instinctive  feelings  of  mankind.  They  ap¬ 
peal  to  those  feelings  at  each  successive  stage, 
as  a  nearer  approach  to  religion  subdues  the 
heart  and  quickens  the  sensibility  to  the  obliga¬ 
tion  and  beauty  of  virtuous  impulses  and  heroic 
action.  Perhaps  the  irreligious  philanthropists 
may  see  more  clearly  the  outward  and  material 
machinery  to  be  used  in  regenerating  society, 
because  their  attention  is  not  distracted  to  the 
want  of  that  spiritual  life  in  the  world’s  heart, 
without  which  it  cannot  receive  and  perpetuate 
the  new  forms  which  it  is  proposed  to  give  it. 
Earnest  and  enthusiastic  spirits,  men  of  noble 
energy  and  daring,  need  a  field  of  exercise  and 
display.  A  secular  philanthropy  is  the  chivalry 
of  the  nineteenth  century.  Just  in  proportion 
as  a  religious  element  enters,  it  grows  more  ele¬ 
vated,  more  dependent  on  God,  and  more  direct 
in  its  worship  of  the  Father.  And  when  it  be¬ 
comes  truly  religious,  the  love  of  God  is  the  su- 
prerne  motive,  absorbing  or  heightening  every 
other. 

Men  speak  as  though  the  love  of  God  could 


CRITERION  OF  VIRTUE. 


271 


be  exclusive  of  love  to  man,  and  as  though  de¬ 
votion  could  call  off  the  mind  from  practical 
duties.  But  love  to  God  not  only  lays  upon 
every  duty  the  separate  sanction  of  his  wish,  but 
it  creates  the  social  and  benevolent  affections 
where  they  were  not  before,  and  purifies  them 
where  it  meets  them.  As  we  have  seen  two 
lighted  tapers  touch  each  other,  and  marked 
how  the  weaker  flame  is  not  extinguished  by 
the  stronger,  but  seems  to  catch  its  brilliancy 
and  mount  higher  as  it  blends  with  it;  so  all 
earthly  affections  and  sympathies  are  only  puri¬ 
fied,  and  strengthened,  and  elevated,  as  they  are 
absorbed  in  supreme  love  to  Him  wdio  is  all 
in  all. 

Let  the  moralist,  then,  apply  to  the  Church 
his  test  of  virtue,  and  if,  according  to  her  means 
and  knowledge ,  she  will  not  labour  for  the  social 
and  material  welfare  of  the  race,  and  in  the  re¬ 
lations  of  private  life  seek  the  common  happi¬ 
ness — let  the  Church,  or  the  man  who  assumes 
her  mantle,  be  branded  for  a  spurious  Chris¬ 
tianity.  But  let  the  Church  apply  to  the  phi¬ 
lanthropic  moralist  another,  and  an  equally  in¬ 
variable  test,  and  if  he  cannot  evidence  the  love 
of  God  by  its  spontaneous  results  of  personal  de- 
„  votion  and  communion,  let  him  confess  that  he 


272 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


lacks  the  one — the  essential  element  of  religion. 
For  the  song  which  ushered  in  the  reign  of 
Christianity  is  the  type  of  all  worship  that  is 
true  and  acceptable  to  Jehovah:  “  Gloi'y  to  God 
in  the  highest” — then — “peace  on  earth,  good¬ 
will  toward  men.” 


|itjuri]  hut  to  Religion  by  floral 


xn. 


INJURY  TO  RELIGION  BY  MORAL  MEN. 

We  say  it  thoughtfully,  and  with  respect, — - 
Moral  men,  as  a  class,  and  in  virtue  of  their 
morality,  inflict  the  severest  injury  on  the  cause 
of  religion.  Xot  with  specific  design,  nor  even 
consciously,  but  none  the  less  fatally,  the  wound 
is  given.  In  some  communities  the  influence 
of  the  purest  moralists  is  more  detrimental  to  the 
salvation  of  men,  than  the  example  of  the  vicious. 
Xot,  we  repeat  it,  that  they  disbelieve  or  resent 
the  loftier  and  more  exacting  doctrines  of  the 
gospel.  Men  who  will  not  deny  our  creed, 
who  contribute  to  its  public  advocacy,  who  are 
sensitive  to  the  claims  of  religion,  and  who  trust 
yet  to  experience  its  spiritual  power — such  men, 
so  long  as  they  are  but  moralists,  exert  an  influ¬ 
ence  decidedly  prejudicial  to  the  religious  wel¬ 
fare  of  others.  And  this  is  not  merely  a  result 
of  that  law  of  mutual  influence,  by  which  all 
human  imperfection  acts  as  surely,  although  not 
as  severely,  as  positive  vice.  The  influence  dif- 


276 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


fers  from  that  of  vice,  in  its  nature  as  well  as  in 
degree.  It  is  peculiar  to  itself. 

The  mere  presence  of  the  moralist  is,  it  is  true, 
hurtful  to  religion  in  consequence  of  the  power 
of  example.  That  singular  impulse  to  an  imita¬ 
tion  of  others,  which  in  a  pure  world  would  only 
serve  as  a  blessed  incentive  to  new  attainments 
in  virtue,  loses  none  of  its  power  amid  the  cor¬ 
ruptions  of  this  sinful  world.  Every  character, 
whatever  its  peculiar  moral  or  spiritual  position, - 
tends  to  assimilate  all  other  characters  to  its 
own,  and  bring  all  besides  to  its  own  level.  The 
vicious  draw  down  to  open  vice,  the  moralist  to 
mere  morality :  for  the  power  of  example  is  to 
bring  all  others  to  the  precise  point  occupied 
by  the  exemplar  himself.  The  same  power 
which  avails  to  draw  them  as  far  onward  in  vir¬ 
tue  as  he  lias  advanced,  avails  to  keep  them 
from  going  further.  If,  then,  we  take  the  lowest 
experience  of  a  distinct  religious  change,  as  the 
zero-point,  above  which  and  at  which  heaven  is 
secure,  but  below  which  all  is  lost,  then  the 
example  which  tends  to  keep  a  heart  below  zero, 
tends  to  its  positive  destruction.  The  moralist 
may  apparently  or  really  bring  others  up  nearer 
to  the  essential  character ;  but  by  as  much  power 
as  he  has  to  elevate  them  to  his  degree,  by  so 


INJURY  TO  RELIGION  BY  MORAL  MEN.  277 


much  his  example  tends  to  keep  them  just  there. 
Other  influences  may  come  in  to  urge  them  on  to 
a  safer  advancement,  or  they  may  not ;  but  so  far 
as  the  moralist  is  concerned,  his  example  only 
leads  others  nearer  to  the  gate  of  the  “city  of  ref¬ 
uge,”  and  seduces  them  to  remain  still  outside  the 
threshold,  where  they  are  found  by  the  avenger 
as  surelv  as  though  they  were  further  away. 

C.  O  %J  V 

2.  But  the  influence  of  which  we  speak  is  dis¬ 
tinct  from  this  power  of  sympathetic  imitation. 
Example  is  powerful,  also,  in  virtue  of  its  clearer 
exhibition  of  character  than  is  supplied  by  mere 
description  or  abstract  conception.  Men  can  real¬ 
ize  the  existence  and  the  nature  of  vice  or  virtue 
which  is  embodied  in  actual  life.  The  higher 
the  manifestation  of  the  good  and  evil  qualities 
composing  human  character,  the  more  vividly 
those  qualities  are  apprehended,  and  their  moral 
desert  as  well  as  their  moral  quality  is  more  clear¬ 
ly  seen.  In  this  there  is  found  a  salutary  check  to 
the  attractive  power  of  a  base  example  for  those 
who  are  comparatively  unstained  by  vice,  in  that 
the  clear  and  sharp  sense  of  its  evil,  and  its  dan¬ 
ger  of  retribution,  startles  and  checks  the  soul. 

But  in  the  case  of  a  correct  moralist,  although 
his  character  is  defective  and  his  salvation  is  in 


278 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


peril,  yet  there  is  no  sense  of  danger  and  of  re¬ 
pulsion  in  view  of  open  vice,  which  may  warn 
the  observer  of  his  insecurity.  Furthermore,  as 
we  have  shown  in  previous  pages,  these  natural 
virtues  and  graces  seem  easily  invested  with  a 
religious  character,  and  serve  to  exclude  the  idea 
of  danger.  The  more  perfect  the  moralist,  the 
more  fatal  the  influence.  Where  one  better 
trait  stands  alone  amid  repulsive  vices,  it  is  con¬ 
demned  by  its  associations,  and  its  worthlessness 
is  easily  admitted  by  observers.  But  where  the 
false  and  transient  lustre  of  such  virtues  is  not 
thus  demonstrated,  and  where  a  rare  constitu¬ 
tion  or  an  aesthetic  culture  has  nearly  perfected 
the  symmetry  of  the  natural  and  instinctive 
character,  the  actual  depravity  of  soul  concealed 
beneath  all  this  loveliness  cannot  be  realized ; 
and  men  attach  a  spiritual  value  to  that  charac¬ 
ter.  They  may  admit  that  there  is  a  higher 
spiritual  experience  which  ought  to  be  attained ; 
but  they  cannot  admit  that  such  an  amiable 
character  should  be  utterly  condemned.  Not¬ 
withstanding  they  see  it  to  be  distinct  from  the 
spiritual  change  which  has  passed  upon  some 
others,  they  feel  it  to  be  a  comparatively  safe 
state ;  and,  consequently,  while  a  valid  religious 
experience  is  conceded  to  be  attainable,  and  de- 


INJURY  TO  RELIGION  BY  MORAL  MEN.  279 

sirable,  and  something  beyond  a  mere  morality, 
however  high,  yet  that  religion  is  held  to  be 
needful,  not  to  salvation,  but  only  to  the  highest 
salvation :  and  moral  men,  if  they  do  not  enter 
the  third  heaven,  are  not  expected  to  go  to  hell. 
The  moralist  himself  may  not  be  deceived.  But 
let  the  principle  once  appear  to  others  estab¬ 
lished,  that  anything  less  than  spiritual  regener¬ 
ation  is  to  secure  anything  like  salvation,  and 
men  of  far  less  natural  virtue  and  culture  than 
the  moralist,  will  feel  that  the  absolute  necessity 
for  a  change  of  heart  is  a  fable,  and  that  they 
are  at  least,  comparatively  safe. 

3.  The  same  fatal  conclusion  is  reached  by 
another  course  of  reasoning  upon  the  virtues  of 
moral  men.  It  is  not  felt  that  although  a  true 
spiritual  experience  is  a  duty,  yet  mere  morality 
will  insure  a  qualified  acceptance;  but  the  idea 
is  that  this  symmetrical  morality  is  itself  a  valid 
religious  experience.  The  correct  conduct,  the 
generous  tone  of  feeling,  the  sensitiveness  of  con¬ 
science,  and  the  aesthetic  pleasure  in  good,  seem 
undistinguishable  from  a  valid  love  to  holiness 
and  to  God ;  and  therefore  these  higher  moralists 
are  considered  as  having  the  substance  of  that 
true  experience  which  the  Church  urges  them 


280 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


to  seek.  But  it  is  known  that  this  experience  is 
enjoyed  without  prayer,  without  reliance  on  the 
help  of  God,  or  on  the  atonement :  it  is  purely  a 
natural  growth,  and  is  professed  to  be  such. 
What  conclusion,  then,  can  he  reached,  hut  that 
anything  more  than  self-culture  is  needless  in 
order  to  religious  experience,  and  that  all  the 
faith  and  prayers  of  the  Church  are  useless,  or 
valuable  only  for  the  effort  toward  self-culture 
which  they  imply?  Thus  men  who  themselves 
believe  in,  and  feel  the  need  of  a  higher  expe¬ 
rience,  and  who,  although  deferring  action  and 
resisting  the  sense  of  duty,  still  expect  to  pray 
and  be  converted,  are  the  means  of  confounding 
in  other  minds  the  very  distinctions  which  they 
themselves  see,  and  of  leading  others  to  denv 
and  to  neglect  the  very  change  which  they  them¬ 
selves  hope  to  seek  and  find. 

4.  Little  as  they  think  it,  yet  even  through  that 
deeply  interesting  class  who  do  pray,  although 
not  with  that  regularity  and  that  direct  and 
lull  expression  which  secures  to  prayer  its  high¬ 
est  power;  or  who,  shrinking  from  any  public 
profession,  strive  to  do  their  duty,  and  pray  regu¬ 
larly  in  secret,  this  same  principle  works  fatal 
deception.  Their  prayers  have  been  heard  by 


INJURY  TO  RELIGION  BY  MORAL  MEN.  281 

Gocl,  in  proportion  to  their  earnestness  and  faith. 
They  have  gained  a  quickened  conscience,  a 
minuter  watchfulness,  a  more  prompt  self-denial, 
and  a  more  spiritual  tone  of  feeling.  They  have 
not  the  full  blessing  of  a  child  of  God,  but  they 
have  many  of  those  drawings  and  illuminations 
of  his  Spirit  by  which  God  would  lead  them  to 
follow  on  to  know  him.  Yet  to  others,  their  en¬ 
tire  character  seems  to  stand  forth  as  a  natural 
growth.  The  sensibility  and  the  deep  abasement, 
the  spirit  of  resignation  and  humble  trust,  which 
will  sometimes  breathe  in  language,  are  all 
credited  to  nature ;  and  every  added  grace  of 
character  that  is  bestowed  in  answer  to  prayer 
and  prayerful  effort,  is  taken  to  evidence  how, 
without  religion,  and  without  earnest  and  formal 
prayer,  a  man  may  possess  all  that  the  Bible 
requires. 

We  may  sum  up  the  injuries  inflicted  by  the 
moralist  upon  religion  in  three  points :  the  power 
of  example,  leading  others  to  stop  short  of  actual 
religion ;  the  exhibition  of  so  favourable  a  phase 
of  natural  virtue,  that  the  undiscriminating  con¬ 
clude  that,  while  it  is  not  religion,  it  must  be  a 
moral  state  secure  from  future  punishment ;  or 
the  temptation  to  identify  high  morality  with 
pure  religion,  and  so  make  void  the  invitation  to 


282 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


the  means  of  conversion  and  a  saving  faith. 
Such  is  the  involuntary  hut  inevitable  influence 
of  the  moral  man,  so  long  as  he  remains  nothing 
more.  He  can  only  escape  from  the  position  of 
an  adversary  to  the  salvation  of  others,  by  be¬ 
coming  a  true  and  an  avowed  Christian  himself. 

The  suggestions  of  a  true  and  generous  benev¬ 
olence,  and  the  reasonings  of  a  strict  justice,  in 
regard  to  this  point,  are  entirely  distinct.  Men 
ought  not  to  follow  bad  examples,  and  there  is 
no  compulsion  in  mere  example :  yet  while  the 
heedless  transgressor  is  not  excused  by  the  evil 
precedent  before  him,  he  who  wilfully  continues 
the  inducement  which  leads  him  astray,  is  guilty 
of  his  destruction.  The  majority  of  immoral 
men  may  either  see  dimly  the  distinctions  be¬ 
tween  morality  and  religion,  between  a  safe  po¬ 
sition  and  an  unsafe  position,  which  we  have 
illustrated ;  or  at  least  they  may  have  a  strong 
though  undefined  impression  of  fallacy  and  wick¬ 
edness  in  all  the  arguments  afforded  by  defective 
examples.  Yet  that  example  is  fatal.  The  great 
body  of  high  moralists  serve  the  less  correct 
masses  of  the  community  as  a  shield  to  break 
the  force  of  all  the  denunciations  of  Scripture, 
and  destroy  all  the  apparent  value  of  its  offers 
of  salvation.  The  only  way  in  which  the  moral- 


IX JURY  TO  RELIGION  BY  MORAL  MEN.  283 


ist  can  be  relieved  from  the  guilt  of  neutralizing 
tbe  power  of  all  the  means  of  salvation  that  are 
given  to  thousands,  is  to  choose  another  position, 
which  is  at  his  option. 

iseed  we  anticipate  the  retort,  that  our  view 
would  counsel  the  moral  man  to  be  less  moral, 
and  so  to  do  less  harm?  If  the  favoured  child 
of  nature  and  circumstances  had  been  born  un¬ 
der  those  other  bestowments  and  influences  wdiich 
form  less  lovely  characters,  he  might  perhaps 
have  done  as  little  or  less  of  injury  than  now,  in 
his  present  relations  to  the  Church  and  to  the 
world.  But  the  very  circumstances  which  have 
made  him  a  moral  man  up  to  this  hour,  have  so 
modified  fiis  power  of  example  that,  should  he 
now  degrade  himself  by  vice,  he  would  exert  a 
tenfold  worse  influence  than  if  he  never  had 
been  correct  and  amiable.  If  the  reader  be 
seriously  interested  in  guarding  his  influence 
upon  others,  he  must  feel  that  he  has  not  the 
alternative  of  remaining  where  he  is,  or  of  being 
more  open  in  transgression :  the  only  relief  to 
the  humiliating  consciousness  of  fatal  example, 
is  change  to  a  genuine  Christian  experience. 

Let  it  be  felt,  moreover,  that  this  question  is 
not  one  of  example  merely ;  the  moralist  has 
personal  advantages  for  his  own  salvation,  which 


284 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


a  life  of  immorality  would  at  once  destroy.  As 
no  man  can  renounce  Iris  own  influence  upon 
others,  so  no  man  can  be  unaffected  by  the  so¬ 
ciety  in  which  his  moral  habits  place  him.  The 
social  influence  which  surrounds  the  vicious  is 
one  of  the  strongest  ties  that  bind  them  to  sin. 
Business,  or  personal  indulgences,  once  estab¬ 
lished  upon  a  wrong  principle,  lend  all  the  force 
of  habit  and  of  immediate  interest  to  check  the 
rising  purpose  of  reform.  Immorality  bears  its 
victim  upon  its  current  further  and  further 
away  from  all  religious  instruction  and  associa¬ 
tions.  It  is  not  so  with  the  moral  man.  His 
society  is  now  enjoyed  by  those  who  are  truly 
pious,  and  the  counsels,  the  urgencies,  and  the 
assistances  of  the  Church  are  ever  waiting  about 
him,  for  a  moment  of  alarm,  or  sickness,  or  reso¬ 
lution,  to  make  his  way  to  the  cross  easy  and 
secure.  The  longer  he  defers  flight  to  the  refuge, 
the  more  free  from  obstructions  should  he  keep 
the  way  thither.  His  own  destiny  would  be 
sacrificed  were  he  to  throw  aside  the  restraints 
of  his  natural  position ;  the  destiny  of  others  is 
involved  in  his  continuing  in  his  present  defec¬ 
tive  state  ;  it  only  remains  that,  for  his  own  sake 
and  for  the  sake  of  others,  he  assume  his  Chris¬ 
tian  duties  at  once. 


INJURY  TO  RELIGION  BY  MORAL  MEN.  285 


We  shall  detain  the  reader  no  longer.  In 
closing  the  last  of  the  interviews  which  wTe  have 
sought  with  those  upon  whom  we  have  urged 
these  solemn  views,  we  shall  not  obtrude  any 
lengthened  appeal.  Such  men,  if  they  receive 
our  views,  will  feel  their  bearing  on  the  wisdom 
and  the  duty  of  immediate  action.  Clear  as,  to  his 
mind,  the  argument  may  have  been,  the  writer’s 
heart  has  felt  the  burden  heavy.  In  the  solitude 
of  his  studv  he  has  not  been  alone :  forms  of  the 

i / 

living  and  beloved,  have  seemed  to  gather  round 
him  ;  forms  of  the  departed  and  lamented  ones ; 
spirits  of  grace,  and  tenderness,  and  majesty, 
from  the  dim  years  of  human  history,  have  one 
bv  one  drawn  near ;  childhood  and  youth,  with 
generous  impulse,  manhood  with  calmer  energy 
of  beneficence,  and  venerable  age — they  gather 
round  me,  and  with  a  kind  reproach  seem  to 
reply,  to  each  utterance  of  the  law,  “All  these 
have  I  kept  from  my  youth  up.”  I  cannot  speak 
in  answer — I  cannot  read  the  heart — but  from 
afar  the  echo  of  a  voice  sternly  sweet  responds, 
“  One  thing  thou  lackest !  ”  They  go  away- — 
sorrowful. 

Bear  witness  that  we  have  struck  no  wanton 
blow,  nor  stooped  to  the  rhetoric  of  canting 
Phariseeism.  If  those  have  seemed  to  exalt  the 


286 


NATURAL  GOODNESS. 


common  nature,  who  have  deemed  our  natural 
virtues  the  mournful  ruins,  the  trembling  but 
unfallen  columns  of  a  glorious  temple,  how  much 
more  do  we  exalt  its  original  capability  and  des¬ 
tiny,  who  find  in  all  the  high  impulses  and  com¬ 
plex  arrangements  of  natural  virtue,  the  mere 
temporary  scaffolding  of  a  nobler  building,  which 
shall  be  eternal  in  the  heavens !  God  help  thee ! 
that  when  time,  and  all  temporary  gifts  and  re¬ 
lationships,  shall  have  passed  away,  thy  soul  may 
be  a  glorious  temple,  perfect  in  every  form  of 
virtue — column,  and  arch,  and  dome,  of  ever¬ 
lasting  strength — within  which  Love,  in  its  royal 
priesthood,  offers  perpetual  worship. 


THE  END. 


WORKS  PUBLISHED  BY  CARLTON  &  PHILLIPS, 


200  Mulberry-street,  Xew-York. 


Memoir  of  Rev.  S.  B.  Bangs. 

The  Youkg-  Minister  :  or,  Memoirs  and  Remains  of  Stephen 
Beekman  Bangs,  of  the  New-York  East  Conference.  By 
W.  H.  X.  MXgruder,  M.  A.  With  a  Portrait. 

12mo.,  pp.  388,  Muslin .  SO  70 

There  are  some  classes  who  may  derive  peculiar  profit  from  a  study 
of  this  book.  Young  ministers  of  the  gospel  may  deduce  from  it 
the  elements  of  a  happy  and  prosperous  professional  career. 
Students  may  be  led  to  inquire  closely  into  their  duty,  and 
may  be  prepared  conscientiously  to  decide  whether  or  not  God 
is  calling  them  to  the  responsible  work  of  the  Christian  minis¬ 
try.  Parents  may  see  the  effect  of  a  careful  and  rigid  and  truly 
kind  training  of  their  children.  And  finally,  all  may  be  stimu¬ 
lated  to  a  holy  life  by  the  energetic  and  eloquent  discourses  that 
follow. — Rev.  E.  O.  Haven. 

History  of  the  Inquisition. 

The  Brake  of  Dominic  :  or,  Inquisition  at  Rome  “  Supreme 
and  Universal.”  By  Rev.  William  H.  Rule.  With  five 
Engravings. 

12mo.,  pp,  392.  Muslin .  30  75 

This  small  volume  should  be  in  the  hands  of  every  one  wbo 
takes  an  interest  in  the  Papal  question. —  Church  of  England 
Quarterly  Review. 

We  cannot  know  too  much  of  that  horrible  and  Satanic  insti¬ 
tution,  of  which  this  valuable  little  work  treats,  and  treats  so 
ably. — Evangelical  Christendom. 

Lives  of  the  Popes. 

The  Lives  of  the  Popes.  From  A.  D.  100  to  A.  D.  1S53. 
From  the  London  Edition. 

12mo.,  pp.  566.  Muslin .  30  80 

We  take  pleasure  in  placing  the  work  before  American  readers  in 
a  more  convenient  form  than  that  of  its  first  publication,  and 
trust  that  it  will  be  extensively  perused  by  young  and  old 
throughout  our  land.  Xo  nation  ought  to  be  better  acquainted 
than  ours  with  the  history  of  the  Popes,  and  the  system  of  reli¬ 
gion  of  which  they  are  acknowledged  heads ;  for  none  has  more 
to  fear  from  the  movements  of  Romanists. 

There  is  no  work  extant,  to  our  knowledge,  that  covers  the  same 
ground.  It  gives  in  compendious  form  the  history  of  the 
Papacy  from  its  very  beginning  down  to  the  pontificate  of  | 
Pius  iX. — a  kind  of  information  which  the  American  people  1 
stand  much  in  need  of  just  now. — Methodist  Quarterly  Revieio.  j 


The  work  is  well  adapted  to  popular  reading,  and  supplies  a  previ-  ■ 
ous  lack  in  the  current  literature  of  the  age. —  Christian  Wit¬ 
ness. 


WORKS  PUBLISHED  BY  CARLTON  &  PHILLIPS, 

200  Mulberry -street,  New-York. 


Friendships  of  the  Bible. 


The  Friendships  of  the  Bible.  By  Amicus.  Embellished 
with  Engravings. 

O  O 

12mo.,  pp.  140.  Muslin .  SO  55 

The  subjects  of  this  attractive  volume  are,  David  and  Jonathan; 
Abraham  and  Eliezer;  Elisha  and  the  Shunammite;  Paul, 
Joseph,  and  Ruth;  Fortuitous  Acts  of  Friendship;  Rulers; 
Bethany;  Jesus  and  John. 

Memoir  of  Richard  Williams. 

Memoir  of  Richard  Williams,  Surgeon :  Catechist  to  the 
Patagonian  Missionary  Society  in  Terra  del  Fuego.  By 
James  Hamilton,  D.  D. 

16mo.,  pp-  270.  Muslin .  . SO  30 

This  is  really  one  of  the  most  profoundly  interesting  and  sug¬ 
gestive  narratives  we  have  ever  read. — St.  Louis  Presbyterian. 

In  the  way  of  a  touching  narrative  of  Christian  faith,  persevering 
and  increasing  even  to  the  end,  this  work  has  few  equals. — 
Newark  Daily  Advertiser. 

Young  says:  “  That  life  is  long  which  answers  life’s  great  end.” 
If  this  be  true,  the  brief  life  of  Richard  Williams  was  longer 
than  that  of  many  who  attain  to  three-score  years  and  ten. 
He  has  illustrated,  in  a  remarkable  manner,  the  strength  of 
love  and  the  power  of  faith.  While  enduring  the  most  severe 
suffering,  with  the  prospect  of  a  lingering  and  dreadful  death 
before  him,  his  soul  rested  in  perfect  tranquillity  upon  God  as 
upon  a  rock,  sheltering  itself  trustingly  under  the  wing  of 
Almighty  Love,  and  joying  even  in  being  permitted  to  suffer 
for  Christ’s  sake.  Thus  does  God  compensate  his  children  who 
deny  themselves  from  love  to  him,  by  inward  peace  and  happi¬ 
ness,  of  which  only  those  who  make  such  sacrifices  can  have 
any  conception. 

Greek  and  Eastern  Churches. 

The  Greek,  and  Eastern  Churches  :  their  History,  Faith 
and  Worship. 

18mo.,  pp.  220.  Muslin .  $0  24 

Contents.  Origin  of  the  Greek  Church — Its  Progress  and  Pres¬ 
ent  State — Tenets  and  Ceremonies  of  the  Greek  Church — 
Worthies  of  the  Greek  Church — Heretics  and  Sectaries  of  the 
Greek  Church — Relations  of  Protestantism  to  the  Greek  Church. 

A  very  timely  book,  giving,  in  a  brief  but  clear  form,  an  account 
of  the  history,  faith,  and  worship  of  the  Greek  and  Russian 
Churches.  It  will  be  seen  from  this  book  how  little  would  be 
gained  to  Christianity  by  the  triumph  of  Czar  Nicholas  in  the 
war  he  is  now  so  unrighteously  waging. 


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